Seasonal Suffering
by DoraeAzure
Summary: When Hermione falls in love with her red-haired best friend, she comes to realize that holidays are no help at all. Features secret agent Hermione,semi-psychotic Ginny, smugly smirking Harry, Quidditch kit Ron, and a truly spectacular hexing of Malfoy. AU after OotP
1. Decorating Dilemma

**Seasonal Suffering**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters or ideas involved therein. That pleasure goes to J.K. Rowlings, and the fun movie-maker people at WB.

Notes: Hey guys! Well, here it is, my Valentine's Day present to all of you. I know it starts at Christmas time (any guesses as to when I first became inspired by this little fluff of an idea?), but I promise it's not just a Christmas thing. Anyway, it's a multipart ficcie, and the rest of it should be coming out between now and Valentine's Day (hopefully I'll get it done in time). So here it is, part one; enjoy!

[Revised 4-2-07: Much thanks to loonyloopylupin for agreeing to beta!]

**Chapter 1: Decorating Dilemma**

Should the sparkling red satin ribbons or the green pine garlands go over the portrait hole? Should she use a bubble or a fairy lights charm to decorate the Christmas tree? And should it be never-melting icicles or frost flowers for the windowpanes?

So many choices and so little time.

Why, oh _why_, had she ever agreed to the suggestion that Gryffindor should decorate their common room? Whose brilliant idea _was_ that anyway? Oh yeah—Ron's. Because a couple of homesick first years had to stay at school for Christmas, and he had thought it might help cheer them up for the duration. And then _Harry_ had said that it might be more _fun_ to try to do as much as possible without magic, and– and – everything was just a big _mess_! It was a nice idea, and it seemed to be working as said first years were happily decorating the girls' staircase and had yet to shed a tear over the fact that they were not to be going home with the others in two days, but that didn't mean _she_ was enjoying the experience. It was going to give her a headache, never mind the fact that she loved organizing groups to handle different parts of the room, or that she enjoyed designing pretty decorations for the walls, or…whatever. She _wasn't_ having fun. No. Because _she_ was stuck helping the _genius_ who had thought this all up.

Hermione sighed, looked up from the numerous boxes of ornaments and decorations surrounding her, and glanced around the common room. It wasn't a pretty sight. Most of the boxes she had been digging through were more than half empty, their contents littering the floor in haphazard heaps and piles or spread out across the tables, couches and chairs which had been pushed back against the walls. Or caught in Ron Weasley's tousled hair, she noticed with a smile, her gaze frozen on the tinsel hanging from his ears and tangled very noticeably on the top of his head. Very little of it, anyway, was hanging where it was _supposed_ to be. She cocked her head to one side with a smile, still looking at him. _The silver of the tinsel compliments the red of his hair nicely_, she thought, watching him fondly, unable to help noticing how well it brought out the gold highlights within all the red. And though he might look a little foolish, it was just so cute, she added with a little mental laugh. Then she frowned when she realized what she was doing. Her gaze was instantly diverted back to the safety of the ornaments and her wandering thoughts quickly contained. She'd been having far too many like that lately…

"Is this centered?" A deep voice smoothly directed her attention back to the redhead on the ladder, and she obliged somewhat reluctantly. But only somewhat.

"A little to the left," she told him after a few seconds' careful examination. He moved the red and silver bow a few inches in the direction she'd indicated and paused, thumb pressing the center of the bow to the wall.

"No, a little more," she said. "A little more…perfect." Ron carefully fixed the bow to the wall where she'd indicated and leaned back to examine it.

"How's that look?" he asked.

"Just the way it should," she replied, keeping her eyes focused solely on the decoration rather than the boy who'd put it there. Even so, she could see him grin in satisfaction out of the corner of her eye when he started back down the ladder and reached to move it. Muscles built in daily Quidditch practices rippled under the fitted blue jumper she had bought him for his birthday as he lifted the ladder and swung it to the left, and she congratulated herself again on her excellent taste. _Very nice_, she thought. _The jumper, that is_, she clarified quickly, then sighed. _Maybe I shouldn't have bought him that jumper. Maybe I should have gone with the orange Chudley Cannons sweatshirt._ Ron turned around, grinning brightly at her, and the brilliant blue of his eyes, complimented by the sweater, made her breath catch in her throat despite the good ten yards separating them. And they made her want to stare.

And _kick_ herself. _Definitely should have gone with the sweatshirt_.

"What?" he asked her, grin still in place, but with one eyebrow raised in teasing question. She realized then that she _had_ been staring.

"Nothing," she answered quickly, feeling heat rising in her cheeks. His grin widened and he held out his hand.

"Next!" he ordered; she just rolled her eyes and handed him the next branch of holly tied with red ribbon. He took it from her, and she tried not to notice when his fingers brushed hers. It didn't work. Thankfully, he was up the ladder with his back to her before her blush fully manifested itself and he didn't notice. _This is ridiculous_.

Hermione looked around the room again, searching for a distraction, and found it in the form of two third year girls trying unsuccessfully to hang mistletoe above the center of the portrait hole. A couple of boys in their year were preventing them from accomplishing their task by attempting to steal the mistletoe before it could be hung. She chuckled to herself when, in the midst of their full-scale battle, they finally collapsed in a laughing heap on the floor, with the mistletoe landing ten feet away.

"What's so funny?" asked a voice by her ear. She turned and smiled at Harry, who was just settling himself beside her after a run to the kitchens, and she indicated the four teens untangling themselves several yards away.

"Remind you of anyone?"

"Not that I can think of," he told her in response. "_We_ were certainly never that rambunctious." He grinned mischievously, despite his words, and handed her a mug of hot chocolate. She gratefully accepted, wrapping her chilled fingers around the warmth of the mug and sipping delicately.

"Where's mine?" Ron had finished moving the ladder for the umpteenth time and plopped down on Hermione's other side, looking expectantly at their black-haired best friend. Harry took one look at him and burst into loud laughter, passing Ron's mug quickly to Hermione before he spilt it.

"What? What's so funny?" Wordlessly Harry pointed and laughed some more. Ron glared at him, then at Hermione when he saw that she was grinning too. "What is so funny?" he demanded hotly, and Harry finally calmed down enough to speak.

"You've got tinsel all tangled in your hair, Ron," he gasped out.

"Not to mention hanging from your ears, and falling down your back," added Hermione helpfully.

"You knew about this and didn't say anything?" Ron glared at her irritably.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," she told him teasingly. "I didn't say anything because it was cute, but if it really bothers you so much, I'll get it out. Come here." He continued to glare, but he leaned his head forward for her. Working quickly, so as not to get flustered by the fact that Ron was so close she could smell his shampoo beneath the warm scent of the cologne he always wore, Hermione removed all traces of silver from his back and neck and moved on to picking it out of the silky red of his hair. She was always surprised, whenever she came in contact with Ron's hair (which wasn't often, unfortunately), at just how soft it was. And it was getting long, she noticed thoughtfully. When he bothered to mess with his hair at all, Ron had a tendency to cut it short so that it would be a long while before he had to mess with it again. But Hermione preferred it a bit on the longer side, just enough so that it curled over his ears and the nape of his neck, just enough so that you wanted to run your hands through it. Ron thought it looked messy, but really, he had no idea how much female attention he attracted when he wore his hair that way. In truth, he attracted a lot of attention anyway, with his big blue eyes, handsome features, and lazy grin, but it was worse than ever this year, as Quidditch workouts had provided the opportunity to fill out his lanky 6'3" frame. All in all, he really was good-looking, and this, added to his proficiency on the pitch and his incredible sense of humor, had made the sixth year a great favorite with all the girls. And of course, he had no clue.

_Next year_, she thought, _give him until next year. That should be enough time for him to realize his popularity… His ego will probably rival Malfoy's when it happens, too._

Sifting out the last of the tinsel with great care and some reluctance, Hermione sighed, irritated with herself. Perhaps it would be better, after all, if he were to cut the stuff.

"Your hair wants cutting," she told him softly, lifting a few thick strands between her fingers. He sighed.

"I know. It's getting shaggy."

"It only needs a bit of a trim though," she assured him, giving in to the voice in her head that cried for the loss of his hair. "You don't need to cut it all off." _Weak!_ Shaking her head, she ran her fingers through the loose ends at the nape of his neck one last time and reluctantly pulled away.

"I'm done," she told him. He sat back, taking both his warmth and the wonderful boy smell of his cologne with him. She had trouble containing a sigh of disappointment. _Snap out of it, Hermione!_

He ran his hand through his hair once, and she noticed he was looking a little red in the ears. She frowned; what we _he_ blushing for? Taking a look around the room, she caught sight a couple of fifth year girls smiling and throwing flirtatious looks his way, and figured that must be it. Then her eyes caught Harry's. Her other best friend was grinning at her in that knowing way he sometimes got that she never understood. Her frown deepened as she looked at him questioningly, but his only response was the lift of one suggestive eyebrow and a glance at Ron. She shook her head; she didn't understand. He rolled his eyes but his grin only widened, and she was suddenly struck by how good-looking he was, too. The last few years had been good to him as he grew up, she realized, and with a grin of her own, she thought about how ironic it was that her two best friends, who had both been very clumsy, somewhat goofy-looking eleven-year-olds, had grown up to nearly completely monopolize the attention of Hogwarts's female population —"nearly completely" only because Malfoy hadn't done too badly in the looks department either and had his fair share of admirers. But Harry and Ron, together, far outstripped him. She really did have two very beautiful friends. Feeling somewhat inadequate all of a sudden, as she sometimes did when she remembered that they were very attractive males as well as her best friends, Hermione stood up.

"Leaving?" Ron asked. She looked down at him.

"Momentarily," she replied, wondering how they never seemed to notice that every female eye was on them. Not for the first time, she thought, _They're probably all wondering why Harry and Ron hang out with someone who looks like _me _when they look like they do. Ginny makes sense — she's beautiful — but me?_

Speaking of Ginny…

Hermione pointedly turned her gaze to Harry. "I'm going to go find Ginny," she told him imperiously. "She's supposed to help me decorate the fireplace. I tell you this so that you are aware that you may _not_ come over and interrupt us. We have agreed that this is to be our no-Harry-no-Ron time for the month, as it's been at least that long since we've had a chance to say _two words_ without one of you interrupting us. So _stay here_," she pointed to the floor where they sat, "and finish putting up the holly, okay?"

Harry, whose face had lit up at the mention of his girlfriend's name, now scowled playfully up at her. "Oh sure," he said, "monopolize my girlfriend's time. Never mind the fact that I'm in love with her and that it's almost Christmas and there's a convenient number of mistletoe sprigs lying about. See if I care. I'll just sit here with _Ron_." And he made a face as he flopped back on the floor, right on top of her pile of holly. She blinked at him, trying to decide how to respond to that, but Ron beat her to it. He was staring at Harry with a look of mixed disgust and amusement.

"Who says I'd be letting you anywhere near mistletoe with Ginny anyway? I don't mind you dating her, mate, but that doesn't mean I want to _see_ you kissing her. You may be my best friend, but she's still my sister, and that's just gross." A pause. "And what are you trying to say, exactly? My company not good enough for you anymore?"

"Don't get me wrong, Ron, I still love you and all, but it's just not the same when I'm with you as when I'm with your sister. I think it's because I'm really just not attracted to you."

"Oh, I see how it is. It's the freckles, isn't it? You're repulsed because I don't have delicate little freckles like she does, _aren't_ you? Well, that's fine. That's okay. I don't think you're pretty enough for me anyway." Hermione winced as this hit a little too close to home.

"Are you calling me ugly?"

"As a toad, Harry."

"So now I'm a toad."

"You heard me."

Pause.

"That's it." And with that, Harry launched himself at his best friend. Hermione, chuckling softly, was quick to make her escape.

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"You fancy him."

Hermione looked up from the garland she was magically sticking to the mantle and gave Ginny a questioning look. "What?"

"My brother." Ginny huffed, exasperated. "You fancy him. Why won't you just admit it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione sniffed, returning her attention to charming the garland in place.

"Uh-huh. You've been sneaking glances at him when you think no one's looking for the past half hour."

"I haven't. And I don't see how you would know, anyway. Your eyes have been glued to Harry since the moment we walked in the door."

"Except for the times when I was watching you watch my brother," Ginny agreed.

Hermione glared at her. "I wasn't watching Ron."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Right. And I'm not in love with Harry."

"You're not?" came a hurt voice from behind them. Hermione's eyes narrowed at the sound.

"I told you," she said, words forced through her tightened jaw, "that you were not allowed over here." She turned around slowly, her face deceptively sweet as she looked up at her black-haired friend. "So what do you think you're doing?" The question was as innocent as the look on her face, but Harry wasn't fooled. Actually, she noted gleefully, he was suddenly rather nervous.

"Uh…saying hello?"

"No! You're leaving!" she exploded, and stood up, heedless of the decorations in her lap. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she turned him around (allowing herself to pretend that she hadn't only managed the feat because he'd let her), and pushed him away. "Both of you!" She added, noticing and glaring at a cowering Ron.

"But Hermione, he's a terrible partner!" Ron exclaimed defensively, pointing an accusatory finger at Harry. "He sits there and purposely messes things up and makes them off center—"

"I already told you— I don't do it on purpose!" Harry protested. Ron ignored him.

"I can't work with him! I _need_ you!" he pleaded.

Ignoring the increase in her heart rate, she glared even more. "Go!" she told them, pointing at the ladder on the other side of the room. "I'll come straighten up your mess when I'm done here."

"But why won't you—"

"No! I am with the two of you all day long, every day. Every day! But I am not a boy; I am a girl. I know you often forget this, Ron, but it's true nevertheless, and sometimes I just need a break— just a little time away from boys. Like now! Go!"

"Okay, okay," he told her hastily, and then he muttered, so softly under his breath that she wasn't sure she really heard him, "and I most _definitely_ know you're a girl."

Had she heard that right?

She gave a little mental shrug and turned back to Ginny who was grinning ear to ear.

"You fancy him!"

Hermione's fists clenched. "Ahhh!" and with that, she half-jokingly tackled her friend and playfully began a fight much like the one she had witnessed between Harry and Ron not twenty minutes earlier. A fight that only ended when Ginny laughingly called out:

"Are you sure you're not a boy after all? I mean, only my brothers try to beat me up like this…" At which point Hermione back-pedaled about three feet and sat glaring at her.

"I hate you."

Ginny just laughed.

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"Why? Why oh why do I allow myself to give in to these things? If I had just followed my instincts I would have stayed up in my room and studied today, and then not only would I be that much closer to feeling ready for our NEWTS next year, but I would not be stuck cleaning all of this up…"

Hermione paused and looked around the common room. It was covered in everything from red and silver bows and multicolored Christmas ornaments to tangled piles of ribbons and garlands and discarded magical decorations. Multitudes of pine needles and torn holly leaves had been ground into the carpet, tinsel literally covered the floor, and there were five or six escaped fairies wreaking havoc with the glittery stuff up near the ceiling. And aside from herself, the room was entirely empty.

"I hate you, Ron Weasley…"

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That's it for now. Tell me what you think!


	2. Girl's Day Gainsay

**Seasonal Suffering**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters or ideas involved therein. That pleasure still goes to J.K. Rowlings, and the fun movie-maker people at WB.

Notes: Chapter the second! Yay! This one's a little weird. I suppose that's what happens when you mix a merciless muse with a protesting headache: senseless silliness. Alliteration! Anyway, forgive the oddities, and enjoy the humor of one of my more ridiculous moods!

**Chapter 2: Girls' Day Gainsay**

Hermione was rudely awakened by the disconcerting feeling of her bed bouncing beneath her and a warm weight suddenly falling down beside her. She frowned, groggily trying to figure out what was going on when her bed bounced again and another weight dropped down on her other side. She buried her face in her pillow.

"Go away…" she moaned, still frowning.

"Wake up, Hermione!" Hermione's frown deepened.

"No," she replied, voice muffled by the pillow. "I don't want to."

"You may not want to, but you're going to. You promised to see us off this morning."

"I lied."

"You? You wouldn't dare. Get up Hermione, before we take drastic measures."

"Drastic measures," another voice agreed, and sounded delighted at the possibility. "Like tickling you, or jumping on your bed…"

"Stealing all your covers and dragging you, pajama clad and sleep rumpled, down the stairs to the common room…"

"Ooo! I bet Ron would love to see that!"

"Yeah. And I happen to know for a fact that he's down there right now, playing wizard's chess with Harry."

"All right! All right! I'm up!" she groaned, flinging one arm out of the covers but making no other move to get up aside from opening her eyes. "Though I don't see why I should care whether or not Ron and Harry see me like this." She glared mock angrily at Lavender Brown, who lay on one side in front of her, and then twisted her head to do the same to Parvati Patil, who had flopped down behind her. Though neither girl was very much like Hermione in any way, shape or form, the three of them had been roommates so long, and had been through so much together (what with Hermione being so closely involved in, and affected by, Harry and Ron's rather dangerous adventures and all), that they had become close friends despite their differences. Even if the other two _did_ often irritate her with their silly, irrational, girly behavior. So it was really no surprise to Hermione that they'd taken the liberty to wake her up so rudely.

"We didn't say Ron and Harry," said Parvati, rolling her eyes, "we said Ron. It's only for Ron that you bother with how you look, not that I think it matters at all. You could wear bright red clown pants, a neon pink shirt, and spike your hair, and he'd still not be able to take his eyes off you."

"Of course not, because I'd look like a freak. The whole school would be staring at me." Hermione could practically feel Lavender roll her eyes behind her.

"That wasn't what she meant. She meant that he likes you."

"I know that. He is my best friend after all." Parvati stared at her, then violently sat up.

"I give up," she cried throwing her hands into the air and leaping away from the bed. She whirled to face Hermione, pointing one finger at her angrily. "You are so dense! When are you going to realize that not only are you _not_ the same girl you were in first year, not only are you _not_ a buck-toothed, bushy-haired know-it-all freak, but you are now a beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted girl, and that there are several guys, Ron included, who would _love_ to date you! Sheesh, what do we have to do to get that through to you, tattoo it on your forehead?" She glared at the girl in the bed. "You have fifteen minutes to get up, shower, and get dressed, and then we're going down stairs, _all of us_, whether you're ready or not. So get up!"

Hermione looked, wide eyed, over at Lavender, who sighed and shook her head.

"She's right you know. You're not a goofy looking eleven year old anymore. You've noticed that Harry has grown up, and you've most definitely noticed the changes in Ron," she paused long enough to grin at the blush on her friend's face, but began again before Hermione could protest, "but you haven't seemed to grasp the changes in yourself." She gave Hermione a moment to let that sink in before smiling gently at her. "For someone who's so smart, you're awfully dumb sometimes." Hermione stared at her, then smiled.

"Thank you, Lavender." Lavender slung an arm around her friend in a gentle hug.

"No problem. That's what friends are for. Now, you'd better get up. Parvati wasn't kidding when she gave you fifteen minutes. We can't afford to leave any later than that if we want breakfast first."

"Okay."

Exactly thirteen minutes later, Hermione, dripping hair pulled back in a messy bun on the back of her head and a loose sweatshirt hanging comfortably over worn jeans under her open school robes, was walking out the door with her two friends and heading down to breakfast.

"Dressed to impress today, are we?" a familiar voice called out from behind them as they reached the stairs down to the common room. The three girls turned to see Ginny, beautiful as always, coming down the stairs to meet them. She was looking at Hermione and fingering her own old and faded sweatshirt. "Me too!" she exclaimed with a grin, her eyes gazing pointedly at a hole in the knees of her jeans. Hermione grinned back up at her. The two had made plans when they decorated the common room two days before to spend the first day of the hols together, so they could actually have some (hopefully) uninterrupted girl time. Hermione, having realized that they would probably see very little of the male population of Hogwarts today, and hopefully Ron and Harry not at all, had decided that she wanted to be at her most comfortable. Clearly Ginny had come to the same decision. Hermione eyed her critically.

"Is that Ron's old sweatshirt?" she asked curiously, noting the way the faded black sweatshirt hung half way down the other girl's thighs, and was gathered in a thick roll at each wrist to free her hands. Ginny grinned broadly and nodded, and Hermione shook her head.

"You don't have enough clothes of your own that you have to go stealing Ron's?" Lavender questioned, amused. Ginny's grin widened, if that were possible.

"I just love to see his reaction when he realizes that I've been through his closet again. Besides," she added, hugging herself, "his clothes are so big and warm. They're the most comfortable things I own." This drew laughter from the whole group, and Ginny waved one hand in the air as she took a step down. "So," she chirped, a little too brightly for Hermione's comfort, "let's go down to breakfast." The four started down the stairs, and Hermione eyed the back of Ginny's head suspiciously.

"You just want to see if Harry's in the Great Hall so you can spend some time with him before we go away for girls' day." Ginny looked with wide eyed innocence up at her friend.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah. Uh-huh. Traitor." Another grin, and they were out the portrait hole.

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Hermione groaned softly for the third time and dropped her fork to her plate, cradling her head in her hands. Lavender, sitting to her right, snickered quietly, and Hermione shot her a nasty glare.

"Don't you have a train to catch?"

"Not at the moment, no."

Hermione growled at her, and went back to pushing her food around on her plate. Not two minutes later Ron reached for his pumpkin juice and his elbow brushed her arm. Again. She wanted to scream.

Instead she grit her teeth and bore it.

_How irritating. Not only did we end up_ seeing _Ron and Harry, we end up _sitting _right next to them. Grrr… this is all Ginny and Parvati's fault. _

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Ron's low voice cut through her thoughts, making her jump, startled.

"Whoa," he said with a laugh, "not a little tense are we?"

"Shut up, Ron," she ground out, glaring at him. He arched an eyebrow.

"What'd I do?"

_You only had to go and sit next to me, looking amazing, and smelling wonderful, and being all around distracting that's what!_

"Nothing," she managed to say. He stared at her a moment longer, and she kept her head down until he finally looked away again.

_Why, oh why didn't I wear my normal clothing today? I should have known I couldn't go a day without seeing him! Oh well, at least I'm comfortable and embarrassed, instead of just embarrassed._

She sat very still, afraid to move for fear of touching him at all, because all she really wanted to do was throw her arms around him and tell him how absolutely idiotic she thought him for not noticing that she was _right here_, and that she loved him.

_I've lost my mind!_

Ginny caught her eye from across the table and smirked. Hermione, glowering down at her hands to avoid the look, happened, at this point, to realize what time it was, and her eyes flew wide.

"Guys, sorry to rush you, but we've got approximately five minutes to get your stuff out to the carriages," she told her two roommates.

"What?" Parvati leapt up, Lavender on her heels, and went flying out the door. Hermione, concentrating as she was on hurrying them along, threw her mumbled goodbye swiftly over one shoulder, giving her no opportunity to see the way Ron's eyes never left her figure as she raced out the door, nor the knowing looks exchanged between Ginny and Harry.

Moments later, Ron, still blinking at Hermione's hurried exit, voiced the question that had been on his mind since the day they decorated the common room.

"Does anyone else get the feeling that she's avoiding me?"

Harry and Ginny laughed.

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Murmuring a spell under her breath, a soaking wet Hermione quietly charmed all the snowballs in her pile to ambush Ginny, whom she knew was hunting her down with a pile of her own in her arms. A moment's wait and a surprised shout was all it took for Hermione to know her trick had been successful. She shifted her weight and rose from her hiding place at the base of a tree (where she had spent the last ten minutes avoiding Ginny and tweaking several of the spells they'd learned in charms until she found one that would work on the snowballs) and peered around the trunk to see whether it was safe to come out or not.

It was.

She stood ten feet away from her fallen friend and chuckled wickedly as she observed Ginny flailing about, struggling to rise from the snowdrift in which she was trapped and failing several times. The red-head spotted the older girl and waved her over.

"Help!" she cried pathetically, which only made Hermione laugh harder.

"No way. If I tried to help you out of there, you'd only pull me in after you. I've played this game with Ron before; how stupid do you Weasleys think I am?"

"With Ron, huh?" Ginny repeated slyly, ceasing her struggling long enough to lift her eyebrows meaningfully. "You fancy him!" she sang. Hermione rolled her eyes and sent a few more snowballs at her helpless friend.

"No fair, Hermione," she pouted. "We agreed not to use spells, and now you've done it twice!"

"Oh, so I suppose you thought I would just let that whole snow falling from the tree thing go then? I know you used a spell for that Gin, I heard you say it."

"Forgive and forget, I always say," the girl said with an impish grin.

"I was buried for two full minutes!"

The grin widened. "What's a couple of minutes between friends?"

"I'm soaked, and I _still _have ice melting down my back."

Ginny's grin broke out into loud self-satisfied laughter. "Oops!" she laughed around her insincere apology, "S-sorry H-Hermione!" And she collapsed back into the snowdrift she had almost worked her way out of, clutching her stomach. Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she thoughtfully twirled her wand between long slender fingers.

"Oh, that's alright, Ginny," she said sweetly, "I expect we're nearly even," she muttered something under her breath, and let herself smile, "now." Ginny's laughter stopped abruptly as she found herself sitting in a snowdrift that was quickly growing warmer. A snowdrift that was quickly growing warmer and _melting_. Melting right through her clothes, that's what it was doing. She struggled to her feet and glared at the evil, snickering Hermione, flapping her arms slightly to shake the freezing water from the sleeves of her sweatshirt and the edges of her sopping cloak. This only turned Hermione's evil snicker into maniacal laughter. Ginny unclasped her now useless cloak and draped it calmly over one arm, glaring menacingly at her friend.

"Laugh while you can, wicked fiend. You forget I've grown up playing this game with six ruthless boys." She waved her wand with a flourish and a murmur, and several snowballs were suddenly hovering over her left shoulder. Hermione frowned at them. They were awfully big, and had a rather funny blue tinge…

Ginny smiled.

"You're in trouble."

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Harry and Ron looked up from their game of Wizard's chess as the portrait hole slammed open suddenly, and shot to their feet as one excessively wet and clearly distraught Hermione came flying through, pulling the portrait roughly shut behind her.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ron, staring at her, "what happened?" She was literally soaked; everything from her hair-falling as it was from the tie which supposedly held it-to her boots, which literally splashed when she walked, was positively dripping.

"Little cheater," she muttered, shivering, and glancing desperately around the room without seeming to see them at all, "-snowballs with water-melting-got what she deserved."

"Hermione?" Harry looked genuinely concerned.

"Can't be mad over-tle revenge. -'s not fair at all." Hermione was examining the space behind every piece of furniture that was not visible from the doorway with a critical eye, muttering to herself all the while. Ron and Harry shared a worried glance and made as if to approach their friend when…

The portrait slammed open yet again.

Hermione dove to the floor in front of the couch.

And…

Ginny flew through the portrait hole with a glare of anger and determination.

Ron and Harry stared back and forth between them.

Hermione, their best friend and comrade in adventure, miss studiousness, miss perfect prefect, miss decorum herself, was dripping wet, sloshing even, and cowering on the floor before the couch.

Ginny, beloved sister and girlfriend, adventurous, fun, and easygoing, was glaring around the room, eyes nearly red with rage, and dripping clothes making a good-sized puddle on the floor.

The only difference between their appearances, really, the boys noticed, aside from the fact that Ginny's puddle before the portrait hole could not even begin to compare to Hermione's puddle before the couch, and that one looked furious and one looked as though she feared for her life, and that one was short and standing and the other taller and laying down, or that one was a redhead and the other a brunette-

Okay so the dripping was really their only _similarity_.

The most _noticeable_ difference between the two, then, the boys noticed, was the fact that all the water in Ginny's hair seemed to have frozen in long reddish-pink frosted icicles sticking straight out from the back of her head, as if she were running. And at the end of each of these long icicle streamers, a bit of thawed red hair protruded where the warmth of the castle had begun to melt the ice, and water dripped down from these to add to Ginny's ever growing puddle, which still couldn't compare to Hermione's puddle, which was nearly bigger than the couch now and didn't seem to need the aid of melting hair, which was good because Hermione's hair wasn't frozen at all, hence the difference in appearance.

Both boys would have laughed if they weren't so confused.

"All right, Hermione," Ginny hissed, narrowed eyes glaring around. "I know you're in here; I can hear your teeth chattering." This was a miracle, as her own teeth were chattering so hard it could be heard across the room.

Ginny's eyes settled on the couch. Actually they settled on the puddle pooling out from under and around the couch.

"Hiding behind the couch are we?" And she launched herself around one side of said piece of furniture. To Harry and Ron's growing confusion and amusement, Hermione shot out the other side.

"Absolutely not," the older girl replied, "I was just taking a bit of a nap." Ginny chased her around the couch, almost slipping in Hermione's puddle (and vise versa, as there was now a veritable lake surrounding that unhappy item from all their dripping), but Hermione managed always to keep Ginny on the opposite side of the one she occupied.

"Stop running and face me like a man!"

"But I'm not a man. I'm very much a girl, remember? We established this a few days ago."

"Coward!"

"I act purely in self-preservation!"

"And you need it too!"

"Forgive and forget, I always say!"

"You froze my hair!"

"You enchanted seven snowballs the size of my head and filled with freezing cold water to attack me. And then they melted!"

"You ambushed me into a snowdrift and melted it!"

"You dumped a tree's-worth of snow on my head and left me to dig myself out!" Ginny leapt over the back of the couch.

"You are dead!" She leapt at Hermione, who had skidded and slipped to a precarious halt when the other girl jumped in front of her, and found herself nearly falling when Hermione was no longer where she had been a moment before.

For she was a smart girl.

Self-defense came first and foremost in situations like this, yep.

So she did the one thing she could think of that might possibly save her from Ginny's wrath.

She hid behind Ron.

Who better to defend her after all? Of her two best friends, he was the least likely to be crushed after standing against Ginny. There was Harry's heart to consider after all. Besides, Harry might side with Ginny, the traitor. Ron wouldn't dare.

Then again, Ginny did look pretty scary. Still…

"Did you see that?" she hissed, grabbing hold of Ron's shirt in one half frozen hand and pointing shakily under his arm with the other. Her shivering made both her hands and words unsteady. "She jumped the couch. She cheated again!"

"You cheated too!" Ginny had steadied herself on the arm of the couch and was now glaring at Hermione, whose slender form was all but invisible behind Ron's. "Come out from behind there, coward!"

"No! And you cheated first!" Ginny's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

"Well that's true, but the fact remains that you froze my hair and now must pay! Come here!" Poor Ron wasn't wearing anything heavier than slacks and a thin jumper when Hermione wrapped her arms around him from behind and turned to keep him in front of her as she hid from his sister, so he was instantly soaked and freezing when her sopping clothing made contact with his.

"H-Harry," he shivered helplessly, "you wanna lend a hand here?" Harry just laughed and fell back into an armchair. He stopped laughing when a sudden movement from Hermione sent Ron stumbling into Ginny, who fell into her boyfriend's lap and soaked him as well. Ron smirked.

"Sh-shut up," chattered Harry.

Meanwhile, Ginny had finally tackled Hermione to the floor, and pinned her down.

"Ah! Help!" screeched Hermione flailing about in an attempt to get free. She was making strange spluttering choking noises, interspersed with the sound of chattering teeth and more cries for help. Both boys leapt to their feet and moved to separate the two when they suddenly realized the sound they were hearing was comfortingly familiar. The choking sound of lost breath was a bit unusual, and the shivering and chattering entirely unprecedented, but otherwise it was a sound they knew well.

Hermione was laughing.

"Say it," Ginny demanded.

"Never!" Hermione declared between laughs.

"Say it!" Ginny tickled harder.

"It would be a lie!"

"Say it!"

"Death first!"

Merciless tickling ensued.

"All right, all right, I'm sorry!" Ginny let her up immediately. Hermione glared.

"I still say you're evil."

"I wasn't the one doing the diabolical laughter thing outside twenty minutes ago."

"No, you were the one running down the hall, screaming like a banshee about murder and tearing of limbs from bodies."

"Not 'bodies,' Hermione, 'body,' singular. As in yours."

"See, evil."

"Does someone want to explain to me what is going on here?" The two girls looked up at Ron.

"What?" asked Ginny.

"You know, with the hiding and the chasing, and the dripping and the screaming?" Ron replied.

"We're having Girls' Day." said Ginny.

"Yeah," echoed Hermione. "Girls' day." She paused, examined both Harry and Ron very carefully, and came to a conclusion. "You're not girls."

"Now she notices," said Harry, rolling his eyes.

"They're not girls," Ginny whispered, scandalized and staring wide-eyed at Hermione.

"Which is good, considering you're dating him," Ron told her, jerking his thumb in Harry's direction.

"Silence, male!" Ginny ordered, pointing imperiously and glaring up at her brother. "It's Girls' Day, you may not speak to me." Ron and Harry exchanged rather exasperated looks.

"Can _I_ talk to you?" Harry questioned.

"Well-" Ginny considered.

"No!" cried Hermione. "It's Girl's Day! No boys! Come on, Ginny, let's go defrost your hair before you go ruining Girls' Day with stupid boyfriends." That said, she grabbed her friend's arm and dragged her up the girls' dormitory stairs, but not without giving her two best friends a parting glare on her way. She completely missed Ginny's half amused, half apologetic smile directed at said friends just before they were swallowed by the staircase.

Ron and Harry stared after them, then surveyed the mess that was the common room. Most of the furniture was wet and/or disarrayed, there was water puddled on the floor and dripping down the walls, and the fat lady could be heard violently complaining to her friend Violet about the abuse she was forced to endure even through the closed doorway.

"Girl's Day?" Ron asked, staring straight ahead.

"No idea."

"This never happened?"

"Nope."

Ron nodded once. "I'll take the common room, you handle the fat lady."

The two boys went their separate ways. It was several minutes before Ron looked up from his chore, frowning thoughtfully, and, to no one in particular, said-

"That was my sweatshirt."

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So there it is. I do apologize for the weirdness, really, but I just couldn't help myself. This chapter wasn't particularly fluffy, either, but I'll get to that, I promise. More to come, but in the meantime, review!


	3. Poker Problems

**Seasonal Suffering**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of, nor anything related to, Harry Potter.

Notes: Hey guys, thank you so much for the reviews! I was going to take a bit of a break (after all, I did spend all of Saturday finishing chapter 2, and editing, revising, and posting both chapters, so it would have been a well deserved rest), but then I read all the wonderful things you had to say and I felt inspired to write! …Despite the fact that my muse deserted me and I sat in front of my screen for a good fifteen minutes before I actually typed a single thing. ^_^ So here it is, short but sweet, a little treat, for all your great reviews.

**Chapter 3: Poker Problems**

Hermione sat in a plush armchair before the fire, book in her lap and blanket wrapped warmly about slim shoulders, a slight smile playing across her delicate features as she read. With the firelight flickering over her face and her hair falling gently over one shoulder, she looked altogether peaceful.

Looks can be deceiving.

"Ha!" she exclaimed, and violently shoved her book under the nose of the red-headed girl sitting across from her. "I told you you had it wrong! Erised is spelled E-R-I-S-E-D not E-R-I-S-A-I-D!"

"Let me see that!" Ginny snatched the book (_Gornelby's New Wizard Dictionary, ninth edition: The greatest dictionary of the wizarding world_) from her friend's hand and stared at the entry for the mirror in question. "Oh, all right!" she huffed irritably, "you were right; no need to rub it in."

Hermione waved her hand over the board sitting on a table between them. "Take them away so I can have my turn."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Ginny rebelliously, removing six tiny square tiles from the board and putting them back on her rack. "Just go already."

Ron, watching them from across the exceptionally clean common room, arched an eyebrow and shot a look at his best friend. His best friend who happened to have spent ten years of his life with muggles. His best friend who happened to have spent ten years of his life with muggles, and so would understand muggle games.

"Okay, so what are they playing again?" he asked in utter confusion. Harry sighed.

"Scrabble. It's a muggle word game in which-"

"Right, right, I know. I was just making sure they hadn't suddenly changed games while my back was turned. Maybe they'd started playing some odd muggle form of poker over there." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Muggles play poker with cards same as we do, Ron."

"Well, you never can tell, really, can you? I mean, muggles do some pretty strange things sometimes, and they're getting awfully violent and competitive over there. I expect we'll see blood any moment now. As poker's the only game I can think of, aside from Quidditch, of course, over which players get so worked up they try to kill one another, what else was I supposed to think?"

"It's scrabble, Ron," Harry said decisively.

"But a word game? Really, I can understand Hermione, she loves words, there'd be no books without them after all, but what is my sister doing?"

"Trying to beat Hermione, I expect."

"I love my sister, you know I do, but what was she thinking?"

"How do you mean?"

Ron shot him an incredulous look. "This is Hermione we're talking about. Poor Ginny doesn't stand a chance. Now if it were poker, at least she'd be winning, the little sneak."

Harry just shook his head. "You ought to watch when and where you say these things, mate. One day they're going to overhear you."

"I can't believe it!" a voice cried out. Then another,

"I won! I won!" followed by a menacing growl and Hermione's evil snicker.

"Why Ginny," she said sweetly, "I never imagined you would be such a poor loser. Hmmm," she paused thoughtfully. "A cheater and a poor loser, all in one day. I think I bring out the worst in you, Weasley."

Ginny grinned mischievously.

"I'll show you poor loser. Get this wimpy muggle game board off of my table and hand me that deck of cards. We're playing poker."

From across the room, Ron Weasley grinned. "That's my girl."

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"Royal flush."

"That's it." Cards hit the table. "We're finding something else to do with the rest of Girls' Day, something that doesn't involve playing these stupid games."

"What's this I hear, Hermione? Is it? Could it possibly be…the sound of a poor loser?"

"I swear you were cheating again, Weasley."

"Cheating? Now see that's the thing about this game, Hermione. When it comes to poker, I don't _have_ to."

"… I'm going to go filch some food from the kitchen….Wanna come?"

"…Will hot chocolate be involved?"

"Is this Girls' Day or is this Girls' Day?"

"I'm there."

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It was getting rather late when Hermione climbed sleepily through the portrait hole later that day. She and Ginny had been off celebrating Girl's Day all afternoon and evening, and had quite literally refused to speak to Ron or Harry even during dinner, though the latter didn't seem opposed to sneaking glances at her boyfriend when the former wasn't looking. Somewhat amused, if a little miffed, by their behavior, the two boys had retreated to the safety of their homework, which they had worked on for several hours, right up until twenty minutes ago when Harry had put down his quill and walked decisively out the door. Since then Ron had worked studiously on his potions essay and was about half way through when Hermione dropped down on the couch beside him.

"Hey," she said softly. He finished his sentence and looked up at her, rather surprised that she was speaking to him.

"Hey." He glanced around. "Where's your red-headed counterpart?" She yawned.

"Right here," she replied sleepily, patting his arm and seemingly unaware of what she was saying. He looked at her sharply as she tucked her feet up on the couch beside her and leaned against him.

_Mmmm…warm. _Of course, Ron and warm had always been synonymous in her mind. His eyes, his smile, his voice, his hugs…not that'd she'd had many of _those_, mind you. _Unfortunately._ So it didn't surprise her at all that _he_ was really _actually_ warm in _temperature_ as well as in character.

"I meant Ginny," he told her pointedly, interrupting her rather pleasant train of thought. Her forehead creased drowsily as she struggled to pay attention to the conversation and not fall asleep against him.

"Hm? Oh, she's off kissing Harry somewhere."

"I see." He frowned down at her. Her eyelids were drooping and she was very nearly nodding. He suppressed a smile. "Does this mean Girls' Day is over?"

"Something to that effect, yes."

"Oh. Because I was beginning to think this was going to go on right through Christmas." Hermione snorted and yawned again.

"Shut up, Ron," she told him and tiredly dropped her head to his shoulder. He started, and his whole body tensed, but after a moment's pause and reflection, he relaxed back into the couch.

"Hermione," he told her very softly, "you can't sleep here for very long." She smiled at the sound of his voice and nodded knowingly.

"I know," she replied, eyes closed and words slurred slightly in near unconsciousness. "But it's lonely up in my room without Ginny." She yawned again, and repositioned her head. "I'll stay until you finish your essay. Wake me then?"

"Uh-huh." He paused, then, "just let me grab my stuff off the table first." He lifted his shoulder gently, and she grumblingly moved her head long enough for him to lean forward and gather his book, parchment, quill and ink. When he was relatively settled with his homework in his lap, she replaced her head and wondered briefly what on earth had possessed her this evening.

_Sleepiness,_ she reasoned. _Sleepiness and loneliness, and this stupid desire to be as close to him as possible all the time._ She smiled slightly and shifted her weight away from his arm, as she suspected he was having trouble writing with her leaning against it that way. _I'll hate myself in the morning for embarrassing myself this way,_ she continued, rather unreasonably, _but he's not outwardly protesting, and I'm not going to complain if he isn't. Maybe this will help the aching go away for a little while, and I can stop thinking about him so much._ She sighed softly, listening to him mumble information from the book as he wrote it down, enjoying the sound and appreciating the rarity of it all that day.

_I missed him._

And she fell asleep, lulled by the gentle rise and fall of Ron's deep voice and the warmth of the room, a peaceful smile quirking the corners of her mouth.

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There. Short I know, and I apologize for that, but I wasn't even planning on updating until tomorrow or the day after. It was only because you were all so nice to me that I decided to put out this little bit of fluff now instead of with the next chapter (fluffy enough for you, Line? If not, there's more to come!). Thank you so much, everyone! Until next time!


	4. Present Prank

**Seasonal Suffering**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters, settings, or themes therein. Still. Ever.

Notes: Hello everyone!

Aaah! I'm _so_ sorry! I promised to have this chapter up three days ago, and here I am, just getting it posted. But! I have a reason (ah excuses, there's always gotta be one). You see, this, the week before Valentine's Day, is the week in which I was supposed to finish this story. So of course all my teachers handed out fat tests, papers, and reading assignments. Thank you, Mr. Murphy. Anyway, schoolwork has so thoroughly taken over my life that though I began this chapter on Monday, I've only just now finished it (despite the fact that I was up until three trying to get it done last night, and had to give up because, clearly, it just wasn't possible). It will comfort you to know, however, that this is an exceptionally long chapter; twenty pages long, to be exact. Somehow I think the fact that the characters ran away with my story might have had something to do with the reason for that. But back to the part about schoolwork. It's that time of year where things start to get really hectic, and there's obviously no way I can finish this by tomorrow, so I'm not going to try. But I will say "Happy Valentine's Day!" to you all, and then I will try to get chapter five out within the next week or so, assuming that my teachers cooperate by not assigning anything _else_ on top of what they've already given me. So, this story will just have to be my _late_ Valentine's Day gift. ^_^ But for now, happy reading!

**Chapter 4: Present Prank**

It was dark and still at this early hour. The curtains were still pulled across the windows, the lights were still unlit, the bathroom was still empty and devoid of the sound of screaming girls and running water, and all the bed hangings were still pulled closed around all the beds in the room. All but one.

It was quiet.

_Someone_ planned to change all that…

A dark figure dressed in dark clothes crept silently across the dark room to the dark hangings of a dark bed. Bright blue numerals floating deep within the swirling gray mists of a time telling device (Morna Marlowe's Magnificent Mean Solar Time Teller) sitting on a nightstand disappeared and reappeared one by one, 5-:-2-7, as the figure passed. Bed hangings were gathered in a tight fist and slowly pulled open to reveal a sleeping female figure. Soft brown hair fell gently in curls and waves about the girl's face and across her pillow. One slim hand was tucked sweetly under her fair cheek, the other rested lightly on the edge of her blankets, and a smile graced her delicate features. She looked like a beautiful princess, all warm and cozy in her big soft bed; it was absolutely heart-warming.

The figure's heart remained un-warmed.

The figure had a mission.

The figure would not fail.

The figure was ruthless, merciless, pitiless!

"Bwahahaha!"

The sleeping girl awoke with a loud scream as an evil, cackling maniac dressed in black and wearing a ski mask leapt on to her bed and attacked her in the middle of her peaceful dreams.

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In the boys' dorm across the way, one raven haired hero heard screaming in his sleep.

He snorted and rolled over, blissfully undisturbed.

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Hermione, now sitting up in bed, stared at her laughing attacker in shock.

"Ginny! What in the name of all that's good do you think you're doing?" The other girl, still laughing hysterically, merely keeled over and rolled off the bed, clutching her stomach with both hands as she curled up in a ball on the floor.

"Are you _possessed?_"

More laughing. _Harder_ laughing.

"Why are you wearing a ski mask?"

The laughing stopped.

Warm brown eyes blinked twice through wide slits cut in knitted black fabric.

"I have an extra…Wanna try it on?"

"…All right."

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_How does she do it? How? Ron and Harry could never get me into this thing. Heh, I'd probably excommunicate them both just for _suggesting _I wear it. I, Hermione Granger, prefect, straight "A" student and candidate for the next Head Girl position, do not run around wearing ski masks…or black espionage outfits._ She paused as her feet brought her to a stairway. _Yet all Ginny does is ask… I think she's a bad influence on me._ She glanced to the left, around a corner, then to the right, and followed Ginny quickly up the stairs and past the first year dormitories where several students were still asleep. She grimaced beneath her mask as she thought of what, exactly, they were doing, then pushed the nagging doubts out of her mind. She _had_ to be the voice of reason when she was with Harry and Ron. _Someone_ had to keep them from getting themselves killed every year. But she wasn't _with_ Harry and Ron at the moment, she reasoned, so why couldn't she have a little fun?

_Most_ definitely _a bad influence…_

Besides, she thought to herself as the two girls continued cautiously up the stairs, she was awake _now _(no thanks to Ginny), and wouldn't be able to go back to sleep at all, considering what day it was. Not only that, but she hadn't any new books to read. She'd read all the ones she had at _least_ four times, and Madam Pince was off on holiday this season (since when did Madam Pince take holidays?), so she couldn't even get one from the library. Clearly reading wasn't going to keep her entertained this morning. And neither would homework, as she'd finished all her holiday assignments _four days_ ago, had even completed everything that had been pre-assigned for _after _the holidays, so she couldn't even work on _that_. She'd been so bored lately, she was going insane. Really, what else was she supposed to do with her time, if not give in to Ginny's evil plots? If she was driven to such drastic measures as this, the teachers could blame no one but themselves for not assigning more work, as was good and proper, so that she wouldn't have to find obscure and unorthodox ways of entertaining herself at five in the morning.

Yes, that was a good excuse.

But it didn't really explain why she'd embellished the plot at all.

She shifted the weight of the bag in her hand and thought about the conversation she'd had ten minutes earlier, in the kitchen.

"_Hello, Dobby"_

"_Good day, Miss! Dobby is happy to see you, he is! Dobby is always glad to see friends of Harry Potter!"_

"_Thank you, Dobby. Here, I brought you something for Christmas."_

"_Socks? You is getting Dobby socks, Miss? Socks are Dobby's favorite clothes, Miss! You is very kind!" _

"_Well, you're welcome Dobby. Listen, could you get something for me? Two somethings, actually."_

"_Oh of course, Miss, of course. Dobby is getting you anything you is wanting."_

"_And these…things…that I need, could they be wrapped? Like a Christmas present?"_

"_Yes! Dobby can do that for you, Miss! What is it Miss is wanting Dobby to get?" _

_She told him._

_His eyes got wide._

"_What is you needing that for?"_

"_Well, it's something of a joke you see."_

"_A joke? Harry Potter and his friends is playing a joke?"_

"_Well, no. Harry doesn't really know about it, you see."_

"_Miss is doing something without Harry Potter and his Wheezy? But Miss never does something without Harry Potter and his Wheezy! They is her best friends!" She laughed._

"_Don't worry, Dobby. I'm not exactly doing this without involving Harry and Ron. They just don't know about it yet."_

"_Oh. Then if Miss will wait right here, Dobby will go and get what she is requiring."_

"_Thank you, Dobby."_

_Yes, _definitely _a bad influence._

Hermione came to the sudden realization that her feet had stopped moving. Curious as to why, she glanced at her surroundings and found that she and her companion were standing outside a thick wooden door. She caught Ginny's eye as the other girl put one hand on the heavy barrier, and knew by the glint of humor she found there that her friend was grinning. Somehow, despite herself and the nagging guilt she felt, she found her mouth quirking up in response.

After all, this super-secret-agent stuff was fun.

Especially when your mind provided you with your very own theme song.

"You take Ron, I'll handle Harry."

The theme song came to a grinding halt.

"_What!"_ she hissed, but Ginny pushed the door open and crept inside before Hermione could say any more. Hermione heaved a heavy sigh and crept in after the smaller girl, who was glancing around the room in a curious manner. Hermione reached into the bag she carried and handed part of the contents to Ginny, then silently pointed to one of the beds, which she knew from her second and third years was Harry's. Ginny nodded her understanding and moved in that direction, leaving Hermione to stare at the closed hangings pulled around Ron's bed. Quietly, she tiptoed toward it and cautiously parted the curtains. Once ascertaining that he was indeed fully clothed in, at least, a thin long-sleeved shirt, with the covers pulled up to his waist, she parted the curtains the rest of the way and reached for the presents already resting at the foot of the bed. Scooping them all into her bag, she set a small, neatly wrapped package in their place (she'd had to wrap it herself after all; apparently wrapping Christmas presents wasn't a house elf's greatest strength) and stepped back. She looked down at the sleeping boy before her, his hair all tousled and his limbs thrown recklessly across the bed, and smiled.

"Happy Christmas, Ron," she snickered softly, feeling suddenly mischievous with the knowledge that she, Hermione Granger, was actually playing a prank on her two best friends. They would be proud of her. When they got over being angry.

She pulled the hangings shut again and tiptoed silently out of the room; grinning all the way.

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Hermione settled down in a chair by the brightly lit fireplace, content to be out of all that black clothing and back into her normal jeans and customary Weasley sweater (a dark gray this year, which she was surprised to find made her feel somehow warm and cozy; odd how a _color_ can do something like that), with her new presents spread all over the table in front of her. She smiled brightly as she examined them all, her finger trailing over each one as she decided which she would make use of first. Finally she just closed her eyes and picked one up. _So, Ron's first then_. It was thick, and rectangular, and rather heavy. But then, they were nearly all like that to some extent.

Ah books. How she had missed them.

She leaned back in her chair and began to read.

Ten pages and two pieces of Mrs. Weasley's homemade fudge later, she heard a noise upstairs that sounded an awful lot like hyper sixteen year old boys waking up at six-thirty on Christmas morning, followed, oddly enough, by a long empty silence.

Her smile turned smug and she went back to reading.

Ginny, sitting on a nearby couch, snickered quietly and continued messing with the life-like models of Ginny's favorite Quidditch team, Puddlemere United ("_each team comes with its own to scale Quidditch_ _pitch! Practice and play against your friends! Available at a Quality Quidditch Supplies near you!"_), which Hermione and Harry had bought her for Christmas (they'd bought a matching set of the Chudley Cannons for Ron); even as Hermione watched out of the corner of her eye, she prodded one of the Chasers just a little too hard with her wand and he over shot his goal, much to the mixed anger and amusement of his teammates. Ginny pouted. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Ginny stuck out her tongue. Hermione rolled her eyes. Ginny-

Was interrupted by the sound of four heavy feet pounding their way to the common room in the boys' stairwell. Ginny and Hermione hid matching grins and went back to their individual pastimes.

"Ginny!" Ron's accusatory bellow rang loudly in the relative quiet of the common room. Ginny looked up, a well-feigned look of joy and excitement covering the amusement on her face.

"Happy Christmas, Harry! Happy Christmas, Ron!" she exclaimed, jumping up first to greet Harry, and then to give Ron her customary hug and a sisterly kiss on the cheek. He seemed flustered for a moment as he returned her affection in kind, swallowing his small sister in his long arms and warm smile.

"How was your morning?" she asked sweetly as she pulled away, bright, wide eyes looking back and forth between them. "Get anything good?" Hermione sighed. That was the wrong thing to say if she wanted to throw the boys off their trail She turned her eyes from Ginny to Harry, and then to Ron, whom she had been avoiding looking at, for the obvious reason that she could never seem to stop once she had begun. Sure enough, both boys had narrowed their eyes at her in uneasy suspicion, and Ron was frowning down at Ginny in outright anger.

_He knows her_, she thought, _entirely too well for our own good. And she,_ she continued, her own eyes narrowing at the youngest Weasley, _should not be so ready to be caught._ She shook her head. _And she's supposed to be so good at this sort of thing. The innocent act never works! _ Not that Hermione had ever tried it, mind, but she'd seen others try, and fail, once too often. Innocence only made victims, er… people, more suspicious.

"This was all your idea, wasn't it?" Ron asked her, holding up the package Hermione had left on his bed earlier that morning. Ginny looked up at the half opened package of coal hanging from her brother's fist and cocked her head. Hermione sighed and fought the urge to shake her head in disappointment. Gin was going to up and confess _already_…

"Actually, I only suggested we steal your presents. Giving you coal in their place was all Hermione." Hermione sighed mentally. Well there it was. At least their reaction was rather amusing. Two pairs of eyes, one deep blue, the other startling green, swung around to look at Hermione sitting oh-so-calmly in her chair by the fire; two expressions portrayed shock and dismay mixed with disbelief as aforementioned eyes widened considerably on her figure. Hermione kept her expression carefully, almost believably, blank as she marked her page with a ribbon and placed her book in her lap.

"You, Hermione?" Ron's voice was soft and wounded, as if he'd suffered a mortal blow, but still tinged with strong disbelief. She looked up at him, with his flannel pajama pants and thick sweatshirt, his wildly uncombed hair and his injured expression, and she laughed softly. Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

"Why would _you_ steal our presents, Hermione?" he asked softly, sounding a bit hurt himself.

"Technically I didn't, Harry."

"You didn't?" Now he sounded relieved. She shook her head.

"No. Technically, I only stole Ron's presents. _Ginny_ stole yours." Harry looked aggrieved and she smiled sweetly up at him. Ron just shook his head.

"It can't have been her, Harry. This is _Hermione_ we're talking about. She doesn't pull _pranks_, she studies!" Hermione stared at him.

"Ron, I finished all my schoolwork last week. I've studied everything we're supposed to learn this term twice already. And I'm not exactly slow, you know; just how much studying do you think I need? Speaking of, have you begun yet? You really should you know, that section entitled _from footstool to fetch_ in our transfiguration text was exceptional. Turning footstools into fox terriers, absolutely brilliant, really."

"Hermione, you must be joking."

"What?"

"It's _Christmas_."

"So? Christmas doesn't keep homework from being due at the end of the holidays, after all, and I very much doubt that the two of you have finished." She paused and glanced back and forth between them anxiously. "You have at least _begun_ haven't you? … _Haven't_ you?" The two exchanged slightly guilty, but mostly disbelieving, looks.

_Of course not_. She found herself sinking back into her chair in defeat.

"All right, fine. Just don't expect to copy _my_ answers at the last minute."

"All right, we'll copy Dean's."

"Harry!"

"What if Dean is planning to copy yours?" asked Ginny curiously. "That would put a nasty dent in your plans."

"Nah," said Ron, "The three of us will just copy Seamus's." Hermione stared wide-eyed at her best friends.

"At this rate, the two of you won't know a thing by the time you graduate," she sniffed.

"That may be true," muttered Ron, "but we'll have lots of fun between now and then."

"I know how to have fun every once in a while," Hermione replied softly, shooting Ginny a sly glance and a secretive grin. She snickered in response and Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

"Presents," he demanded. "Now."

"Awfully demanding, isn't he?" Ginny asked, referring to Harry but looking at Hermione and cocking her head inquisitively.

"He usually is. No patience, that one. As bad as Ron, really."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" growled Ron, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, just what is that supposed to mean?" echoed Harry, copying his friend's stance. They were pouting and bore a remarkable resemblance to a pair of two year olds. Ginny and Hermione looked at each other and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Ron blinked.

"I don't get it."

"Me neither."

"Where do you reckon she's put our presents?"

"Who Ginny? Dunno. Maybe we should look around a little, see if we can't find them." Ron began checking under the Christmas tree and all the tables in the room, while Harry started tossing all the cushions off the couches and onto the floor. By this time the two girls had calmed down a little and, wiping tears from her eyes Ginny asked.

"Harry, darling, what _are_ you doing?" He froze, one cushion held high over his head, both hands occupied in the process of throwing it over his shoulder, and wide green eyes focused on his girlfriend.

"Looking for our presents?"

Hermione stared at him. "Under the couch cushions?" she cried, and the two girls started up again.

"Well where else are we supposed to look?" asked Harry, scowling. "It's not like there's a whole lot of places you could have hid them in here.

"But under the couch cushions?" Hermione laughed, and Ginny laughed harder, bending over and clutching her stomach in an effort to ease her poor abused abdominal muscles. Of course, the look on her face, and the fact that she was about to fall over, only made _Hermione_ laugh harder, so then Ginny really _did_ fall, and Hermione had to bury her face in her knees to keep from rolling out of her chair.

"Okay, that's ENOUGH!" shouted Ron, and all laughter came to a sudden stop. Both girls blinked at him with wide, half frightened, half amused eyes. Ron really was kind of scary when he got angry like this. Ever since he'd had that last growth spurt and started towering over everyone like he did…

Ron took a deep breath.

"Now. Ginny. It's Christmas. Where are my presents?"

"Really, Ron, Hermione-"

"Stop blaming her for this, Ginny. I've known you all your life; I know your work when I see it."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said softly, with a little smile. "You really are thick sometimes." He frowned.

"What?"

"You open Christmas presents from me every year, and birthday presents too; you'd think you'd be able to tell just by looking whether or not I've wrapped a gift." Harry lifted his lump of coal and examined the undamaged portion of wrapping paper surrounding the bottom half.

"It looks an awful lot like her work, Ron. If I had to guess, I'd say she was guilty."

"But Hermione? This is so unlike her." Hermione pretended they weren't talking about her as if she weren't there, and watched Ron gently prod the remaining paper on his own coal. He sighed.

"Still, it does look like Hermione's wrapping, doesn't it?" He turned accusatory blue eyes to her. "Well? What have you got to say for yourself?" Hermione smiled serenely up at him.

"Happy Christmas, Ron, Harry," and she went back to reading her book. There was silence for about five seconds, and then Ron came storming over to her. He snatched the book right out of her hands and knelt down to look her straight in the eye.

"You will _not_ read the book _I_ got you for Christmas while holding _my_ presents hostage and pretending that you're not. I want my presents. It's Christmas!" She looked at him, this adorable, whiny little boy disguised as a young man and felt her heart melt down to her toes. She sighed.

_Darn those big blue eyes. _

"Gin," she called over her shoulder, "give the boy what he wants."

"Yes," agreed Harry, "before we start to cry."

"Oh-ho," laughed Ginny, running a pacifying hand through Harry's wild hair and pulling a mockingly tragic face, "so sad!" She grinned up at him. "Come little boys, let's go get you're presents now!" Hermione grabbed Ron's sleeve before he could get too far.

"Ron, my book, if you please."

"No, Hermione, I do not please. You have several others on the table there; you can read one of those for now. You won't miss this one if I keep it as collateral until my own gifts are returned." She smiled up at him winningly.

"Take one of the others as collateral. I've already started reading this one, and I'd like to finish it, if you don't mind." He looked at her for a long moment, then sighed in frustration and handed her book back, exchanging it for one on the table. Shaking his head, he stalked after Ginny and Harry, and Hermione grinned. All in all, she was fairly happy with herself. She snickered quietly and started counting.

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

"We have to _what?_" Ginny and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione set her book down on her chair as she got up, hiding it under her blanket so that Ron couldn't steal it again.

"It's not so bad," she heard Ginny say as she crossed the room to where the three of them stood. "I promise it'll be worth your while."

"I don't care if it's worth my while, Ginny," Ron told her angrily, "I just want to open my presents." Hermione, forgetting just how much physical contact with him affected her, put a restraining hand on his arm. He turned to look down at her and she quickly realized her mistake. Standing this way put her waaaaaay too close to him. Way too close. She was suddenly aware of the heat she felt emanating from his body, the distinct rustling sound of his clothes as he shifted, even the flecks of sky blue amongst the sapphire in his eyes, which were suddenly very apparent to her, and her breath caught as she wondered why she'd never noticed them there before. She felt the tension in the muscles under her hand suddenly increase, and noticed the slight frown on his face when those wonderful eyes glared down at her. Softly, she reached up with her free hand and ran her thumb over the space between his eyebrows.

"Don't frown," she murmured, "it'll give you wrinkles." He made a strangled sound deep in his throat, and his eyes widened considerably. Suddenly a thick white card was thrust between them.

"Here's yours, Ron!" Ginny chirped happily. "Now remember you two, all you have to do is follow those instructions and you'll find your presents just fine. Bye!" And she dragged Hermione out the door by her wrist.

Ron shook himself and looked down at the two lines written on his card.

_Small as a chocolate frog, tall as a tree; _

_Look where you'll see a star, there you'll find me._

He groaned.

"_Ginny_…"

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"I saw that."

"What?"

"That look. Between you and my brother. I saw it."

"Oh."

Pause.

"You fancy him! You fancy him! Hmm-hmm, you _fancy _him!" Ginny sang, skipping down the hall ahead of her friend. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What are you, two?" They were walking down to the kitchens, having decided that it was mean to steal a person (or two)'s presents on Christmas morning if you didn't plan to at least _try_ to make up for it by delivering a specially made breakfast-in-the-common-room (seeing as how the boys were already up and all, so breakfast-in-bed wasn't possible. Besides, the girls weren't allowed in the boy's dorm anyway…he he he). The scavenger hunt Ron and Harry were on at the moment was merely to buy Ginny and Hermione some time while they got everything ready.

"Fifteen, actually," Ginny replied tartly, then grinned. "You _do_ fancy him." Hermione just gave her a look and continued on down the hall.

"Why won't you just say it?"

"What, that I fancy Ron?"

"Yes!"

"It would give you too much pleasure." Ginny was speechless for a whole of two seconds.

"Then you admit that you do?"

"Did I say that?"

"You implied it!"

"Funny, I hadn't realized that _implying_ something and _saying_ it was the same thing."

"You are the most frustrating person I've ever met."

"What about Moaning Myrtle?"

"Does she count as a person? I mean, I know she's pretty much just the same now as she was before she died, but technically she's a ghost. Do ghosts count as people?" They came to a stop in front of the painting of a bowl of fruit, and Hermione absently tickled the pear.

"I'm not sure actually," she told Ginny thoughtfully. "I don't think so."

"Welcome, Misses!" exclaimed a familiar voice as they stepped through the door.

"Hello, Dobby," Ginny said with a smile.

"Dobby has everything ready, just as Miss is asking," he told them, motioning them to follow as he walked across the room, chattering away almost as if he were talking to himself as he went. "In the kitchen, nobody minds if Dobby makes something different at breakfast time. They is too busy with Christmas dinner, they is, to mind what Dobby does. So Dobby is making what the Misses ask. He is a good house elf." He stopped before a tall counter and motioned towards it with one hand. "They is sitting on those trays, they is. Dobby put them there himself."

"Thank you, Dobby," Hermione smiled down at the bowing house elf as she reached for the tray with Ron's name written across the front of a little white card resting against the mug in one corner. She stopped herself just short of picking it up, and knelt down in front of Dobby instead.

"I'm sorry about this, Dobby," she told him, "but can I ask one more favor?"

"Of course, Miss! What can Dobby do?"

"Can I get a candy cane, please? Do you have one around here somewhere?" He retrieved one for her, and after several more bows from Dobby, and another thank you or two from Ginny and Hermione, the two set off back to the common room, trays in hand.

"A candy cane? For breakfast?" Hermione just smiled.

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The common room was a mess of, well, many things by the time they got back. After much careful maneuvering and three near accidents, the two girls managed to get both the trays and themselves through the portrait hole with relatively little damage to any of the aforementioned objects/people. They got no further into the room however, as they were frozen in place by the horror of the sight that met their eyes.

Wrapping paper and ribbon was everywhere, several of the pine garlands seemed to have "fallen" off the walls, tinsel and broken ornaments littered the floor around the tree, and all of the furniture was disarrayed, some of it even pushed over backwards or resting on its side, and all of the couch cushions were _still_ on the floor.

"You know, we're the ones who'll have to clean all this up," Ginny sighed.

"Déjà vu," muttered Hermione. "At least I'll have company this time."

"What?"

"Never mind." She shook her head and turned to watch Ron set up the Quidditch pitch for his Chudley Cannons team. He was grinning from ear to ear and humming to himself as he set each goal carefully in place. She smiled at his childlike enjoyment of his new toys and tossed a look at Harry, who seemed equally happy digging through his box of _Famous Quidditch Seekers of the Century_ which Ginny had bought for him. He pulled one wriggling figure out with a shout of surprise.

"Hey! Even Krum is in here!" Ron looked up with a feigned air of surprise.

"Really? Let me see that."

"Oh, no you don't. You're not going to take your irritation with the real thing out on my action figure."

"But Harry-" Ron protested. Hermione gave Ginny a look.

_Should we break this up?_

"No Ron," Harry replied.

Ginny returned Hermione's glance. _More than likely, yes._

"Harry-"

"We're back!" Ginny called out brightly. Both boys looked up with a disagreeable frown, but froze when they saw the trays of food.

"Breakfast!" cried Ron, jumping up to relieve Hermione of her burden. She surrendered it to him and moved to clear one of the tables for him to set it on, then retrieved a chair from the floor for him as well.

"This isn't the sort of thing they normally serve for breakfast on Christmas," Ron said frowning down at his butter, syrup and strawberry covered waffles, accompanied by eggs and sausage. "Normally they just give us toast because they're too focused on Christmas dinner to make anything else."

"We told you it would be worth your while, didn't we?"

"_You_ made this," Ron squinted up at his sister, looking suddenly suspicious. Hermione sighed.

"No. We had Dobby do it." She sounded regretful and disgusted all at once, and Ron rolled his eyes. Though she never mentioned it, he knew she hadn't given up on the whole _SPEW_ idea. She was just biding her time, waiting for the opportune moment to bring it up again… In the meantime, she was always exceptionally polite to the house elves, so much so it was almost sickening.

"You brought us breakfast to make up for stealing our presents and you didn't even make it yourselves?" Harry was amused.

"We _tried_ to do it ourselves," Ginny said sorrowfully as the boys began to eat, "but the house elves got so upset about it, we had to give it up. So we asked Dobby instead."

"Was that before or after you asked him for the coal?" Harry asked wryly.

"Hey! How'd you figure that out?" Ginny cried.

"After," Hermione answered.

"Hey, a candy cane!" exclaimed Ron. "My favorite!" He happily plucked it off the tray and began to unwrap it.

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that," Hermione mused, then lunged forward to snatch the candy out of Ron's hand just inches before it reached his mouth. "No!" she told him. "You can't eat that yet."

"Why not? That's what it's for isn't it?"

"Not quite. Here. Eat your waffles and I'll show you what it's for." He obligingly took a bite, still pouting, while Hermione poured a cup of hot chocolate from the little pot on his tray. Pulling the wrapper completely off of the peppermint candy, she put the straight end in the mug and let the crook hang over the edge.

"What are you doing?" Ron cried, reaching to rescue his beloved candy from certain doom at the hands of the heated chocolate drink. Hermione calmly slapped his hand away.

"Ow!" He glared up at her, rubbing his injured hand with his uninjured one. "What was that for?"

"Leave the candy cane alone, Ron."

"But it'll melt in there!"

"That's the point."

"_What?_" She sighed.

"Trust me, Ron. Just leave it alone. Now eat your breakfast." She pretended not to see the faces he pulled as she stood up and began to straighten the room. Ginny quickly rose to help her, and soon the furniture, at least, was back in place, and all the wrapping paper and ribbons had been disposed of.

"The two of you sure made a big enough mess," muttered Ginny. Harry grinned maliciously.

"We did it just to spite you," he told her happily, taking a bite of egg.

"I know," she replied with a sigh, "and I suppose we deserved it."

"Speak for yourself," said Hermione sourly. "I would never have gotten involved if you hadn't _attacked_ me this morning."

"_Attacking_ you had nothing to do with any of this," she waved her hand around to indicate the still messy common room.

"It did." Hermione picked up some tinsel. "If you hadn't have attacked me, I wouldn't have woken up, and if I hadn't have woken up, I would never have been tempted to help you." She threw the tinsel in a trash bin they had found somewhere.

"You know, it wasn't like you protested when I offered to let you in on it," Ginny replied hotly.

"Well," Hermione told her thoughtfully, "it was a good idea. But it was _so_ unpolished. I felt I couldn't allow you-Ron, leave that candy cane _alone_-to take credit for such rough work when I could have prevented it."

"It _was_ a good idea, wasn't it?"

"It was. I especially liked the theme song."

"Theme song?" Ginny gave her a funny look. Hermione just smiled innocently back, and magicked the closest pine garland back onto the wall. Ginny shook her head and turned to clean up the mess under the tree. Then she really stopped to look at it for a second, and groaned.

"Was it really necessary for the two of you to knock half the ornaments off the tree?" she grumbled and bent to examine the glass shards on the rug.

"The ornaments are Ron's fault," Harry replied absently, cutting his waffles into bite sized pieces.

"Ron-"

"You shouldn't have put my second clue at the top of that stupid eight foot tree," he interrupted her, scowling down at the Chaser he was trying to animate in between bites. "Hermione, if I can't _have_ the candy cane, can you at least move it someplace where I can't _see _it, please? It's calling to me."

"Oh Ron, it is not." She moved to his side and gently stirred his chocolate with the candy cane, then tapped what was left of the candy thrice against the rim of the mug and set it down. "You can drink it now," she told him, "but don't eat the candy cane until after you've finished your chocolate." He scowled up at her and lifted the mg, clearly intending to drink it all in two gulps just so he could eat his favorite holiday treat. He got as far as half of the first gulp before his eyes widened and he slowed down to savor his drink.

"Mmmm," he stated happily, taking little sips and wiggling his big feet under the table in pleasure. "Tastes like hot chocolate _and_ candy canes. My _two_ favorites!"

"I _tried_ to tell you," Hermione told him, "but no; you can't just trust me." He looked at her with serious eyes.

"I trust you, 'Mione," he told her softly, "I'm just impatient." He flashed her a grin, and went back to focusing all his attention on his new love: candy cane flavored hot chocolate. Hermione, meanwhile, tried to pretend that the rare nickname and the complete seriousness of his words didn't affect her, and failed miserably. She nearly ran to help Ginny finish cleaning before anyone could notice her blushing.

SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS

Dinner was spectacular. The Great Hall looked amazing, with the usual twelve Christmas trees, fully covered in all sorts of magical decorations, ringing the perimeter and red and green table cloths and napkins on the one long table. Ham was served, with mashed potatoes and a thick gravy and all kinds of greens and four different kinds of juice and so many sweets the teenagers lost count. All in all, they came back full and happy, though there was so much extra food that they all filled their pockets with some of the leftovers, and Ginny even filched a pitcher of pumpkin juice and some goblets before they left the Hall. Unfortunately, she dropped it almost as soon they reached the common room. She had turned around to say something or other to Hermione, who was just climbing through the portrait hole after Ron, and it slipped out of her hands, spilling juice and glass shards across a wide section of stone floor and trapping Ron and Hermione just inside the portrait hole. When nobody moved to clean the mess, Hermione sighed and pulled her wand from her pocket. Two waves, a scourgify and a reparo later, the juice was gone and Hermione was bending down to retrieve the flawless pitcher.

"There," she said, offering the pitcher back to Ginny, "no harm done." But Ginny didn't seem to hear her. In fact, she wasn't even looking at her, rather, she was staring at a something behind and slightly above her, with the barest hint of a sly smile on her lips. Hermione frowned and followed her gaze up and over to a bundle of green tied with red ribbon dangling from the ceiling above Ron's head. Her eyes widened. Ginny grinned.

"What?" Ron asked, confused by the sly look Harry was giving him.

"Mistletoe," Hermione told him softly.

"What?" he glanced up and froze. "Oh." A couple of the first years who had been the only other occupants of Gryffindor tower over the break looked up from their game of exploding snap and grinned.

"Hey! You two are standing under the mistletoe!" cried one girl.

"I told you that was the perfect place for that sprig, William!" cried the other excitedly to another of their companions. "And you wanted to move it over by the stairs after your sister put it up." There was unmistakable disgust in her voice.

Hermione glanced over at Ginny, who was looking at her expectantly, then back at Ron, who was still mesmerized by the plant hanging above him. Ginny had planned this, she just knew it.

_I can't kiss him!_ She panicked, her thoughts flashing through her head in microseconds, and her wildly beating heart dropped heavily into her stomach. _He doesn't fancy me at all; surely he doesn't want his best friend kissing him. Then again, maybe he wouldn't mind; it _is _tradition..._ Her heart turned over in her stomach again, and she quit rationalizing. _But even if he doesn't, I still can't kiss him! I can't! He's Ron! He's my best friend! My best friend whom I think I'm in _love _with; I can't _kiss _him! There's no way I can _kiss _him! I can't even _touch _him without melting into a puddle on the floor!_

_Still…_

_I can't leave him standing there…_

He'd been there all of two seconds.

She took a hesitant step towards him, and those gorgeous blue eyes jerked down to focus on her, wide in anxious anticipation, shock, and…something else? At least she knew he was just as uncomfortable as she was. Somehow that made things easier.

She closed the small gap between them, placed one hand on his broad shoulder for balance, and then she was rising, up, and up, and up on her toes and she wondered briefly why he seemed so much taller than he ever had before, and then he was bending forward to meet her and her free hand was on his face, softly turning it just so, and her lips were on his cheek, and then it was over, and they were both turning a little red.

_That wasn't so bad…_

"I'm not sure that was good enough."

_Scratch that._

"What?" Ron sounded outraged, and Harry tried to hold back a laugh. Ginny wasn't so polite.

Hermione, for her part, wasn't sure whether to feel relieved by Ron's reaction because she wouldn't have to embarrass herself in front of her friends by sharing her first real kiss with him so publicly, or hurt because he didn't _want_ to kiss her. She snuck a glance at him. He was glaring at his very smug sister, but she caught him sneaking a glance at her too, out of the corner of his eye, and his face grew steadily brighter after that. She grinned.

Relieved then.

Now that Ron's reaction was taken care of, Hermione felt at ease to deal with the situation. So she rolled her eyes.

"Come on Ron," she told him, grabbing his wrist, "let's go play with your Chudley Cannons Quidditch set."

_When in doubt, run._ He lifted a skeptical eyebrow as she dragged him across the room.

"_You_ want to play Quidditch?"

"Only because I want _you_ to get good enough at the spells that you can beat Ginny's Puddlemere team. I want her to suffer."

Laughter filled the common room.

_This_ was an excellent Christmas.

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"Psst, Hermione." Hermione rolled her eyes

"No Ginny," she said absently, snuggling further down in her blanket on the couch and turning a page in the book she was reading.

"Oh, come on Hermione-"

"Absolutely not. You're a bad influence on me, even Ron says so." Said red-head flashed her a grin from the chair kitty corner to her sofa, where he was currently _demolishing_ Harry in yet another game of wizard's chess (their third or fourth of the day; Harry kept insisting Ron's winning streak of six years _had_ to be a fluke).

"But Hermione! What about girl time? You've been hanging out with Ron and Harry all day!" said the voice at her elbow.

"So have you," Hermione told her. "It's Christmas, we always spend the day together. Besides," she added, finally looking up from her book, "I've spent enough time with you recently to realize I'm much better off without girl time after all. I'm going back to hanging out with boys. They're much easier to deal with, and don't get me into nearly so much trouble." Snickering was heard from the general vicinity of the chess board.

"Trouble?"

"Yes trouble. First there was the fight by the fireplace, then there was the snowball fight on Girls' Day, followed by the charms fight in the corridors, and then the tickling fight all over the common room. And now you've got me pulling pranks on my best friends. At this rate we'll be moving on to teachers by next week, and I'm not so sure I'm ready to face the kind of consequences that would bring. I think we need to go back to the way things were before."

"Before?" Ginny's voice was small and forlorn.

"Yes before," Hermione replied, turning back to her book.

There was silence.

"So…I'll see you next month."

"…Yes."

Ginny grinned sneakily and crept back around the back of the couch the way she had come.

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And that's the last you're going to see of the Christmas season. Yep, that's right, Christmas is _over_! We're moving on to bigger and better things, like…well, we're not, actually, because _nothing_ is bigger or better than Christmas! It's my favorite holiday. But, we _are_ moving on. Eventually. When the play I have to read for my American Lit class stops nagging me to read it. Sigh. See you next time!

Oh wait! I just have to put in this little plug about candy cane flavored hot chocolate. Hot chocolate really is one of my roommate's favorite drinks, and at Christmas she drinks it with candy canes melted in. Well, we were teasing her about it, so she made us all try it, and it's sooooooo good. And you can even drink it when it's _not_ Christmas time too! Gasp! (Assuming, of course, that you have candy canes! ^_~). Yep. So try it next time you have a chance. It's worth it!

And now…IT'S OVER!

Until the next chapter anyway…

Review, review, review!


	5. Qudditch Quest

**Seasonal Suffering**

Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own Harry Potter, nor anything that involves Harry Potter. I'm not making any money from writing about Harry Potter, nor am I getting any other reward of material value from the creation of this fic containing Harry Potter. I am, as always, entirely broke due to paying for school; my only reward is the joy of my reviewers.

Notes: Hello my wonderful readers! I'm back with chapter five! Yay! Unfortunately this chapter has taken longer than the week I promised (obviously, as it's been almost three), but there was really no help for it. I had auditions for a play, for which I had to prepare a monologue, and that took up about three days; and then I accidentally cut my index finger with a knife at work last Saturday, which has made typing rather slow and difficult, and I had yet another couple of tests to study for, eight rehearsals these last two weeks, and I burnt my middle finger on a candle ("What's a fire? And why does it, what's the word? Buuuuuuurn?" Heh heh. I don't own the Little Mermaid). But it's finished nevertheless because I love you all so much and I felt bad putting this off as long as I have.

**_Super Important Note!:_ The theme song in this fic is vaguely related to (meaning entirely based upon) the tune of the Darkwing Duck theme song (which I also do not own), so yeah. You'll want to know that later.**

**Chapter Five: Quidditch Quest**

Hermione slid cautiously between two narrow rows of wooden benches, eyes glued to her feet in an effort not to trip. She came to a spot that seemed satisfactory, sent a glance up at the sky to make sure she'd have an unimpeded view, and gingerly settled herself on the hard cold bench. She shifted uncomfortably for several minutes until her seat warmed up beneath her, then, pulling her thick winter cloak close about her shoulders, she turned her attention to her surroundings. The air about the Quidditch pitch, as yet, was empty except for the flapping Gryffindor and Slytherin banners above the goal posts at either end. The stands, however, were growing steadily noisier as students filtered in from breakfast, most of them in groups of threes and fours. Frowning lightly, Hermione turned her attention back to the sky. It was a beautiful January day, if a bit too cold for her liking, and she didn't really want to think about the fact that she was here by herself. She deserved nothing less, she supposed, for making the three most Quidditch obsessed people in her house her closest friends. But really, how was she supposed to know, when she met those two scrawny little boys, that she was really looking at two of the greatest Quidditch players Hogwarts would see for the next seven years, and that if she didn't want to live a life of loneliness she should avoid them at all costs? And then there was Ginny. She'd thought she was safe with Ginny. Let the boys run off and play on broomsticks if they wanted, she still had a friend to sit with. But no, she goes and tries out for Seeker last year, after Hermione had already had to give up Ron as her bench partner, and then again for Chaser this year, so that all _three_ of her best friends were now in the air instead of in the stands with her. Normally, she would have sat with Colin in their stead, as they had become good friends last year when Ginny, their mutual friend, decided to join the team, but his Quidditch photos had become so popular as game mementos that he'd gotten special permission from Dumbledore to sit in the commentator's box from now on in the hopes that he could get better shots for those of the student body willing to pay. It was well-known, after all, that Dumbledore himself was one of Colin's best customer's. Hermione had been known to help him develop the pictures, as there were so many of them, on more than one occasion, and usually got copies of the shots she liked for her efforts, so she was glad her friend had been promoted to a better photography position, but that didn't help her at the moment. She sighed. She hated sitting alone, it made her feel foolish.

Footsteps coming down her row drew her attention from her thoughts and her eyes from the sky.

"Hey Mione, I was hoping I'd find you before the stands filled up." Parvati sat down beside her and gave her a cheerful smile. "How long have you been out here?"

"About ten minutes. I wanted to make sure I got a good seat."

"Good seat?" Parvati examined their position and grinned. "Close proximity to the Gryffindor goal posts, and thus its Keeper, and an unimpeded view of the rest of the field so you can pretend to watch the entire game instead of just the parts involving a certain male Weasley. I see how you consider this a good seat." Hermione shot her a half playful glare. There really was no point in denying it anymore, but that didn't mean she had to take this kind of abuse either.

"What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be sitting with Lavender and Seamus?" As that was normally where Parvati sat, usually surrounded by a large group of giggly girl Quidditch fans (after a moment's brief consideration, she supposed she really ought to qualify that statement. It should have been: a large group of giggly girl Quidditch fans absolutely fawning over all the male players and squealing at every turn of a broomstick for the entirety of a game. It was sickening really, especially as the two players who got the most attention were her two best friends. Her two _best friends_, one of whom had a girlfriend, and one of whom…well). It was odd that Parvati should leave said fan club to join Hermione, the Quidditch watching hermit, who hated fawning. In public anyway.

"Under normal circumstances, yes, but I knew you'd be sitting alone now that Colin's moved up in the world," she replied, tossing her head in the direction of the raised commentator's box. "Besides, I really would like to watch one game, just _one game_, without fifty girls telling me how lucky I am to be dating one of 'those totally hot Beaters.' Really, I don't mind if they want to admire Jack, I rather think he's handsome myself, but in the middle of a game, all I really want to concentrate on is the game. Despite what some may think, I really am a huge sports fan, and it doesn't hurt my concentration that one of the Beaters is my boyfriend. Being told how amazing he is while I'm trying to watch him play does." Hermione chuckled lightly and turned her eyes to the Gryffindor stadium entrance, hoping for an early glimpse of Ron. Or Harry and Ginny; that'd be alright too. But she knew what Parvati meant. She too had come to love Quidditch, though she would never admit it to Ron, and she would insist to anyone who noticed her devotion during games and happened to ask about it that it was 'entirely against her will and completely in self defense.' What else could she do, surrounded by Quidditch maniacs twenty-four seven? She'd never have a decent conversation with any of them if she didn't know the game and like it, at least a little.

"How odd." Parvati murmured beside her. "You and I are rarely in similar situations where our love lives are concerned, but we are very much in the same boat today, aren't we?" Hermione shot her a questioning glance. Parvati's eyes too, she saw, were glued to the Gryffindor entrance, and she continued without returning her friend's gaze. "We've been left alone to fend for ourselves while our men run off to play with the boys." Hermione smiled and returned her gaze to its previous focus.

"I doubt Ginny and Katie would appreciate that very much."

Parvati just laughed. "Well I won't repeat it for them, will I?"

There was a prolonged silence, and Hermione sank back into her thoughts. It was three weeks since the start of second term, and the first Gryffindor Quidditch match of the New Year. Unfortunately it was the Slytherin's first match of the New Year as well, and the tension between the two houses had been brutal these last few weeks. Hermione was a little nervous. Matches against Slytherin were never clean, but this one was bound to be far nastier than most, as Gryffindor and Slytherin were tied behind Ravenclaw for the chance to compete in the finals for the cup. She really hoped all her friends made it through this match alive. Just then a voice exploded to life with the sound of a cleared throat that echoed and reechoed across the pitch.

"Ahem. Hmm." There was a tapping sound then, "Sorry-Whoah! I guess this is working then. Bit loud isn't it? All right then, welcome to the first Quidditch match of the New Year! Today's match, as I'm sure you're all aware, is Gryffindor vs. Slytherin." Here the voice paused to let the roaring crowd settle down, and Hermione smiled. When Lee Jordan graduated the year before, Dean Thomas had overtaken his position as commentator for all the Quidditch matches, but he was still adjusting to the equipment and the protocol. At the last game, he'd talked right through this customary excitement, and the whole school had missed the beginning introductions. "And here are our teams! First are the Gryffindors! That's Potter, Bell, Weasley, Creevey, Sloper, Kirke, and Weasley. With their six year running record of undeniable-"

Hermione tuned out the rest of Dean's speech and leaned over to Parvati. She gasped sharply, and Parvati jerked around to look at her with wide, startled eyes. But Hermione wasn't looking at her, instead she was focusing solely on the players walking towards the center of the pitch, broomsticks slung confidently over left shoulders and scarlet robes billowing behind them. She pointed shakily to one of the boys carrying Beater bats, specifically the tall, blue-eyed brunette.

"Take a look at _that_ guy!" she whispered in assumed awe. "What's his name, Jack? Jack Sloper? He's _amazing_! Hey! Isn't he your boyfriend? You are _so_ lucky to be dating one of those totally hot Beaters!" She fluttered her eyelashes and pretended to swoon, clinging tightly to Parvati's arm to keep from falling over backwards with her exaggerated movements. Parvati glared and turned back to the pitch.

"I hate you." She stated stoically, shoulders slumping. Hermione laughed.

"-erins! Malfoy, Warrington, Montague, Pucey, Crabbe, Goyle, and Bletchley. As always, Captain Draco Malfoy seems to be holding to the Slytherin tradition of size over skill in today's line up," he ignored the boos and angry calls that erupted from the two hundred or so students in Slytherin green across the field as he continued rather reluctantly, "though admittedly the abilities of his players have drastically improved since the start of first term. And there's Madam Hooch." Sure enough, the hawk-eyed woman was making her way across the field to stand between and slightly behind the two captains. Her voice could just barely be made out across the pitch, despite the suspenseful silence that had swept through the stands.

"Captains shake hands!" Harry and Malfoy shook, and appeared to be trying to strangle one another's fingers as the more than firm handshake went on far longer then necessary. Finally they broke apart, both refusing to flex the offended appendages, though Hermione was sure neither was immune to the pain of their contest.

"Mount your brooms!" Hooch called out sharply, and fourteen legs swung out over fourteen brooms as she began the countdown "Three…Two…One…" Her whistle, as always, was lost to the roar of the crowd as all seven players on either team pushed firmly off the ground and rose into the air, Harry and Malfoy rising faster and higher than all the others. Hermione's eyes quickly found Ron as he left the half circle of his teammates and flew once, twice around the goal posts before settling into his customary place directly in front of them and began the usual mid-air warm up "pacing." Madam Hooch, meanwhile, had carried a large wooden crate to the center of the pitch, and was now setting it down. Tapping the lock twice with her wand, she took a step back and kicked it open with one pointed boot. Two Bludgers and the Golden Snitch came shooting out and made a swift loop around the pitch. Madam Hooch grabbed the Quaffle under one arm, mounted, and took flight, throwing the red ball up dead center between all six Chasers to start the game, just as the two Bludgers circled back to make a mess of things. Katie grabbed the Quaffle from mid-air as Dean yelled to the audience-

"They're off!" And so began a dizzying half hour of confused action in which the Seekers were practically useless and the Chasers fought an all out war. It was a dizzying battle, and Hermione couldn't help but think how much the Gryffindor team had improved. The first half of the year had been rough on them, as Harry had pretty much had to rebuild the entire team himself. Katie was the only Chaser still remaining from the previous year, so even after she'd finished training Ginny and Dennis in all the plays and tactics that Gryffindor Chasers were famous for, the three of them had still had to learn to work together and instinctively predict one another's moves. The two Beaters were so green the year before that it was only this year that they'd finally settled into their position, and even then, Harry had needed to work with them one on two just to get them up to par. And even the Captain himself, despite his natural talent, had needed more than the usual amount of exercise to catch up with the other house Seekers after his unwanted vacation during fifth year. Poor Harry had been forced to call practice left right and center, regardless of time or condition, and many was the day she'd come into breakfast at seven sharp, as was her custom, only to find the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team wilted and muddy in front of their plates after a two hour practice. But the extra work really showed; the Gryffindor team had finally pulled together, and they were as good as ever they were when Wood was Captain.

Hermione smiled and sent a fond look towards the raven haired Seeker, who was currently circling the pitch. Ever since Dumbledore had replaced him on the team, he'd gone after the Snitch with a vengeance, almost as if he thought he needed to make up for the year he'd been denied the feel of it in his hand. In a way, she knew that was part of it; Harry almost felt he needed to prove himself all over again. But it was also partially the fierce joy he found in flying, the feel of the wind in his hair, the adrenaline pounding through his veins, the speed of the chase; he needed it and he loved it, and last year had only proven to him just how much. Her smile faded. She also had a sneaking suspicion that he took out all his frustration on the game. He'd been doing pretty well this year, despite Sirius' death, but Voldemort continued to terrorize humanity, and obviously wanted Harry dead, and Harry was still trying to deal with the fact that if he didn't want to die, he was going to have to kill. Not an easy nor a light burden to settle on the shoulders of a sixteen year old boy. So he went to class and did his homework and kissed his girlfriend, but always in the back of his mind was this nagging weight; and he played Quidditch. He'd never told her any of this, he'd never even hinted at it, but she'd watched him play, in matches and at practice, and it was always on his quieter, most melancholy of days that he played the fiercest. Quidditch was his release, his method of handling the stress and the pain, and she was proud he'd chosen something so productive as an outlet for his aggravation rather than bottling it up as he had the year before. Her smile returned. She was willing to bet that Ron, fresh from one of their four/five am practices, may not so readily agree with her. But it was good for him, good for them both.

There was a sudden collective gasp from the stands that effectively pulled Hermione from her thoughts as the object of her most recent attention had just dropped into a steep dive at a furious speed, Malfoy right beside him. The crowd was on its collective feet as the two boys plunged downward, downward…

"And it's Potter, Malfoy, Potter, Malfoy- _duck, Harry, that's a Bludger!_ –The Bludger, sent by Slytherin Beater Vincent Crabbe, misses Potter but nails Slytherin Seeker Malfoy-Ah! No! Crabbe slams into the Gryffindor Seeker and the snitch is lost. Times like these I wish this were soccer. He'd be out of the game for a stunt like that, the foul, cheating little-"

"Thomas!" McGonagall's voice cut him off.

"Well, it's only true! All right, so after a horrendous foul on the part of that filthy cheating Bea-"

"Thomas, do you want to commentate this game?" A sigh, then Dean's sulky voice was heard once more.

"So the Slytherins narrowly miss killing the Gryffindor Seeker for something like the thirtieth time in his Quidditch career, and the ref awards a penalty to Gryffindor for that bit of inconsequential skinning, taken and put away by Weasley, and we continue. It's Slytherin in possession. That's Adrian Pucey with the Quaffle, nice pass to Montague, back to Pucey. He's moving along pretty quickly up there, last minute pass to Warrington who-Hey! That was intentional!"

Hermione found herself rising unconsciously from her seat as Pucey and Montague slammed into Ron on either side, sandwiching him between them and forcefully knocking him out of the way while Warrington scored. There was a cry of protest from the crowd, and a shout of admiration from the Slytherins, and Hermione felt herself being pulled back into her seat by Parvati.

"It's all right," her friend told her, though the anger in her eyes was apparent. "He's just fine, look." And she pointed past Hermione's nose in the direction of the Gryffindor goal posts. Hermione followed her finger with her gaze and found Ron, who had nearly fallen off his broom when his overenthusiastic support had suddenly dropped away from him, now shaking off his daze and scowling darkly at the Slytherin Chasers. His mouth was going at a furious pace, and Hermione grimaced at the thought of the words that must be streaming out of it. Dean's voice boomed over the roar of the crowd as Ron resumed his position, still scowling fiercely.

"That's a penalty to Gryffindor after another attempt on a Gryffindor life by the Slytherins' stooging. Can't say I blame them entirely, no one's been able to score on Weasley since the start of the match against Ravenclaw last November. Penalty taken by Bell-"

Hermione smiled in the direction of her red-headed friend as Dean's voice continued. It was true, she thought, that no one had been able to score on Ron since that match. Even the Gryffindor chasers had been having a hard time of it. "The man," to quote an exasperated Katie Bell after a particularly difficult practice, "is a nightmare on that broomstick. Nothing gets past him." Which was a good thing in the long run, but the Gryffindor Chasers seemed to think, whenever Harry pitted them against their Keeper in practice, that perhaps he was being a bit extreme. "I understand his being so good during a match," Ginny had complained bitterly, "but can't he go a little easy on us in practice? Harry's devoted to our being able to score on him regularly, says the challenge'll be good for us. I say six hours of Chaser exercises on a Saturday is just ridiculous." Hermione had just laughed. But Ginny had a point. Ron had gone from one extreme to the other; from letting every Quaffle in, to no Quaffle at all, and she and Harry were so proud of him. All of Gryffindor was. But Hermione knew that, like Harry, there was more to Ron's game than skill. Like Harry, he loved to fly; he may not be as good at it as their best friend, but he loved it just as much. And, like Harry, it was his release; but unlike Harry, Quidditch was the place where Ron lost his temper. There was no doubt in the mind of anyone who knew him that Ron was easily angered. It really didn't take much, just one little phrase, worded just so, and he blazed to life like wildfire, just as dangerous and just as unpredictable. She ought to know, she thought ruefully, she was the one who most often made him angry (not that it was intentional mind you. Well, okay, maybe sometimes…). But ever since he'd discovered he really was very good as a Keeper, he'd started taking all his aggression out on Quidditch. It had made him much easier to get along with off the pitch, and everyone's worst nightmare on it, and she was relieved to note that his volatile temper had not exploded in quite some time.

The crowd around her erupted to life, people jumping to their feet and screaming wildly. Hermione looked around bewildered, standing just to see what was going on, and frowned in disappointment when she saw Ron smirking at Montague. She'd missed something!

"After that spectacular save by Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley, Chaser Dennis Creevey takes possession of the Quaffle and flies towards the other end of the pitch. Slytherin Chasers Warrington and Pucey in hot pursuit, Montague still too stunned to do anything but sit dumbly on his broomstick-"

"Thomas!"

"Sorry professor. That's Gryffindor Chaser Weasley now in possession, Creevey, Weasley- _nice_ use of the Porskoff Ploy by Ginny Weasley there. With Warrington out of the way Creevey takes the Quaffle and -YES! HE SCORES. ANOTHER TEN POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR!" Hermione screamed wildly like all the rest then settled back down in her seat, her eyes automatically swinging back to Ron. She loved to watch him fly. Heh, who was she kidding? She loved to watch him, period.

Forty minutes and three saves by Ron later Parvati grabbed her arm and started bouncing in her seat, cheering loudly, "Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!" Hermione's voice rose with her as she spotted Harry falling into another dive, chasing after Malfoy, the little Golden Snitch just feet in front of them as they fell ever faster-

"Come on, Harry!"

He was pulling even now, his long fingers stretching out, edging forward on his broom, the distance closing- six inches, four, three, two… Harry knocked Malfoy's arm out of the way at the last second and then-

"YES! HARRY POTTER'S GOT THE SNITCH, GRYFFINDOR WINS 180 POINTS TO 10!"

The crowd erupted as Harry did a quick victory lap around the pitch, and Hermione couldn't help but grin as he flashed by, snitch clenched tightly in one leather-clad fist. Her smile stayed firmly in place when she turned to watch Ron land beside the rest of the Gryffindor team, and it was only when she lost sight of him in the mass of congratulatory spectators that swarmed around him that her smile faded and she allowed Parvati to pull her from the stands.

SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS

"Dean!" Hermione exclaimed later, stopping in the middle of the corridor to huff at him in exasperation, "_Why _are you following me?"

"It's just that, every time we win a match, you sneak off and come back with food. That used to be the Weasley twins' tradition; it _must_ be against the rules." He paused and eyed her thoughtfully. "I've never seen you break the rules before, and I thought it might be rather entertaining. Besides, I want to know where you people go to get all this food."

"The kitchens. Where else would one go in a large castle to find food?"

"Are you _allowed_ to be in the kitchens?"

Hermione sighed in irritation. "Dean, what do you think?"

"Ha!" he replied happily. "I knew it. Okay let's go." Hermione rolled her eyes, not looking forward to this little outing with Dean, when a thought suddenly occurred to her. She stopped and looked at Dean slyly.

"_Where_ are you going?" He looked over at her as though he thought she was mad.

"To the kitchens."

"I'm sorry, Dean, but students aren't allowed in the kitchens. As a prefect, I'm afraid I have to ask you to go back to your common room."

"What! But you're a student, and you're going!"

"Going where?"

"To the kitchens!"

"Did I ever say I was going to the kitchens?"

"Well no, not exactly."

"Well then. Back to your common room, Dean, before I'm forced to take away house points." He gaped at her.

"But-but it's your house too!"

"I know," she said, nodding apologetically, then, raising her arms in a helpless shrug, "But my hands are tied. It's my job as a prefect to make sure you follow the rules. So go." Eyes wide in shock, Dean slowly started off down the hall, mumbling to himself in near admiration about sneaky, over-zealous prefects. Hermione grinned after him, then turned and continued making her way down to the kitchens. It was late evening and already dark outside, as it always was by the time the Gryffindor parties really got going, but there were still several hours before curfew. Still, Hermione found herself sneaking rather cautiously along one stone wall as she walked in response to the quiet, subdued air of the castle. Soon she was peering around corners and literally pressing her back against the walls to keep from being seen as she crept through the darkened corridors. Then she was grinning crazily and softly humming her personalized theme song from her present-stealing mission as she slithered down a set of stairs with a slightly louder step for every down beat of her song. By the time she reached the hallway with the painting of the bowl of fruit, she was singing rather loudly:

"Creeping through the corridors

Master of the Night!

Tip toeing on cold stone floors

Rule-breakers take flight!

Somewhere some students sneak

But too late, they're caught!"

That's right, the theme song now had words.

"Hermione!" she continued.

"(She's a wicked prefect)

Hermione!" She tickled the pear.

"(Let's get serious)" Hermione grabbed the handle and flung the door open.

"Hermione!" She stepped into the kitchens, now singing at the top of her voice.

"(Hermi-Hermione!)" The song came to a sudden halt as she realized that every house elf in the room was staring at her in wide-eyed fear. She heard a few of the closest murmur something about the "Miss who hides clothing" and words such as "terrifying" and "horrible," and suddenly the room was devoid of all life saving herself. And Dobby.

"Hello, Dobby!" she sang out cheerfully, no longer disturbed by the behavior of the other elves. She could sit at a table, perfectly innocently, reading and eating a sandwich and they would still all run in fear.

"Good evening, Miss!" Dobby replied. Ten minutes later, she left the kitchens with several shrunken bags of carefully packed treats and drinks in her pockets and began the dark, secret journey back to the Gryffindor tower. Not long after that, the theme song made a reappearance, this time, caution remembered, performed almost entirely in her head, except for the soft tune which she hummed under her breath.

_At curfew rounds she will appear_

_Intelligent and fair_

_Who's that cunning mind behind_

_That really bushy hair?_

_Everybody knows her name_

_She always does her work_

By this time she had nearly reached the entrance hall, and because the chorus was fun, and her mission completed to the point where she wouldn't be found out, she made the switch to audible song.

_Yeah, here comes,_

"Hermione!

(She's a wicked prefect)

Hermione!

(Let's get seri-"

"Hermione, what _are _you doing?" Hermione froze . She considered her position, pressed against the wall of the entrance hall, the cold of the stone behind her seeping through the clothes at her back, and half-hidden by a suit of armor she had been using for cover until she could make sure of the security of the hall before she dashed across it to the stairs opposite. It wouldn't do to be seen after all.

Only she had been seen. By the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, the members of which were looking at her rather oddly. Hermione blushed momentarily at having been caught behaving in such a manner, then shrugged and came out from behind the armor.

"Just nicking a bit of food from the kitchens," she replied to Ron's question, smiling in greeting to the others as they shook their heads and started up the stairs.

"By hiding behind a suit of armor?" Harry questioned, one eyebrow raised doubtfully and an amused smile tugging at his lips. Hermione waved her hand dismissively at his comment, refusing to embarrass herself further by trying to explain it, and changed the subject instead.

"Nice catch, as always, Harry," she told him, reaching up to ruffle his wild-as-ever hair as she passed in the direction of their best friend. Harry shook his head in response and took hold of Ginny's hand.

"Come on," he told her quietly, "let's leave them to it." Ginny allowed herself to be led, reaching up with her free hand to smooth down his hair a little, wilder now after Hermione's tousling, and he smiled.

Hermione, meanwhile, was wiping her hand off on her pants, having discovered after she put her fingers through it that Harry's hair was still rather damp. That done, she smiled up at Ron, who, having been leaning against the doorjamb up to this point, now unhitched himself from his position and looked down at her rather lazily, crossed arms falling to his sides. Without really thinking about what she was doing, she closed the space between them and slung her arms over his shoulders in a loose hug.

"You were amazing today," she told him sincerely, voice muffled. His ears and that strip of extra sensitive skin across the tops of his cheeks and nose turned bright red in that way she thought was so cute, but she missed it because her face was still partially hidden in his shoulder.

"Er-thanks," he replied, shifting uncomfortably but firmly returning the rare and much-treasured hug. He gently gathered her close and rested his chin on the top of her head, and she smiled at the pleasant weight, loving how well she fit in his arms and how warm and comfortable she felt there.

_If only things could always be like this_. She took one last deep breath, savoring the smell of the cold outside mixed in with fresh soap and that unidentifiable _Ron_ smell clinging to his clothes, and sighed before pulling back a little. Instantly his eyes caught hers and she realized with a start just how close they were. Heart pounding, she really couldn't help herself as she turned one hand over behind his head and slid her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Ron tensed almost immediately, and she sighed; she loved his hair. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, she wasn't sure, it was still wet from his shower, and she wrinkled her nose, hoping to break the tension she wasn't sure she wanted broken.

"Your hair is wet," she told him quietly.

"I know," he answered in kind, and she smiled brilliantly up at him.

"We should get back." Her arms slid away until only her hands rested on his shoulders.

"Yes," he agreed, _Was that reluctance?_ and let her go.

"Come on," she ordered playfully, taking his hand and pulling him up the stairs after her. "We can't eat all this food by ourselves you know, not even with your appetite."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" he asked indignantly. His warm fingers wrapped themselves more comfortably around her own and she couldn't help but laugh, giddy from the contact, and amused at his tone. Joking and laughing, they held hands all the way back to the Gryffindor Tower.

SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS

The party had undeniably been a huge success. The Gryffindor victory over Slytherin had been celebrated, food had been eaten, pumpkin juice drunk, and everyone had had a wonderful time. In short, it had been…normal. Gryffindor parties were always like that.

_But that doesn't make it any less enjoyable_. Hermione sat on the couch, slowly sipping the last of her pumpkin juice and staring contentedly into the fire as she absorbed the events of the day and listened to the sound of Harry and Ron talking several feet away, their voices rising and falling in the growing quiet of the room. Soon the sound disappeared entirely, and she realized the room seemed empty without it, absently thought that most rooms sounded empty without the voices of her two best friends, and had the sudden urge to get up and hug them both and never let them go. She then realized that she was more tired than she had previously thought, and considered going to bed.

"Goodnight, Hermione," said Harry's voice in her ear then, and his arms wrapped loosely around her shoulders in a gently loving hug. Smiling, oddly enough with tears in her eyes, she leaned her head back against his shoulder and blinked sleepily at him, trying to remember the appropriate response.

"Hey," Ron murmured softly, frowning as he caught her expression over their friend's shoulder, "what's the matter?" He dropped to his knees behind the couch next to Harry, his chin resting on her upper arm, and reached over the back of the couch to take her hand in his, his head turned to consider her face. She lifted a hand to Harry's cheek on the one side of her face, raised the hand lost firmly in Ron's to her own on the other, and sighed.

"It's just, I love you guys so much."

Harry laughed softly. "And that's a cause for tears?"

Hermione grinned helplessly, a tear trembling briefly on her lashes before dropping despite her onto the smooth plane of her cheek. Ron lifted one finger from her hand to wipe it away with his knuckle and she turned her smile on him, then faced forward again.

"No," she replied softly, "it's just-I don't know. We're sixth years. Next year we'll be graduating, and after that we won't be able to do this anymore. I mean, it'll still be the three of us, but it won't be, you know? Already things are changing…" Ron sighed.

"Yes, they are. But no matter what, no matter who joins our circle, or how big our families get, it will always be the three of us, just like this. Maybe not here, maybe not as often, but always just as close." Harry nodded his agreement.

"Right. Because we're a package deal," he paused momentarily, then looked at her firmly, moving her hand from his face and taking it in one of his. "But that's all a long ways off still, Mione. We don't have to think of that just now. Now we get to enjoy what we have, okay?" She sniffed quietly and nodded. Harry smiled and gently brushed his hand over the back of her hair.

"Go to bed, Hermione," he told her gently, squeezing her hand, then headed up the stairs to the boys dorm. She was still smiling after him when a strong arm wrapped loosely about her shoulders, and something soft and warm pressed against her cheek.

"Goodnight, Hermione," Ron's deep voice murmured in her ear, and then he too was gone, disappearing up the stairs after their friend. Hermione sat there in shock.

He didn't.

He hadn't.

…Had he?

Hermione put a hand to her cheek.

But he had.

A goofy smile spread across her face. Ron had just kissed her! Albeit, on the cheek, but still, he had done it, and completely voluntarily too. She felt like squealing, jumping up and down, anything! Grinning, she glanced around the room, looking for someone, anyone! to whom she could relate her joy, and froze.

The common room was once again littered with party mess.

"Why is it always me" she groaned. But somehow she couldn't muster the irritation to really make it convincing. That stupid goofy grin, she knew, really ruined the effect entirely.

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And that's it for chapter five. The next chapter should be out in about a week, as usual, give or take a few days due to unexpected school work, play rehearsal, or accidents with knives (I don't know _why_ people give me sharp objects. I am _the _clumsiest, most accident-prone person on _the planet_, and I _told_ my boss, I told him, "Don't give me knives, not even little ones 'cause I'll cut myself. And while you're at it," I told him, "don't put me anywhere near the fryer either, it'll only end in tragedy." Does he listen? No! Gives me a knife anyway, and then just laughs when I tell him "I told you so!" Really. Knives and I just don't mix). So anyway, yeah. This chapter was kind of short (due to major writer's block! I had to struggle for every sentence on all 13 pages, it was ridiculous!) and I'm still not sure how I feel about it, but there it is. Review for me, please, and I'll get right to work on the next chapter, which should be a bit easier on my creativity, as my muse has been loading me up with ideas for _that_ one for weeks (Couldn't help me with this one, no, had to go and jump ahead…). Until then!


	6. Nap Necessity

**Seasonal Suffering**

Disclaimer: once again, I don't own Harry Potter, or anything that involves Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling, and the fun movie-maker people at WB do). I'm not making any money from writing about Harry Potter, nor am I getting any other reward of material value from the creation of this fic containing Harry Potter. I am, as always, entirely broke due to paying for school; my only reward is the joy of my reviewers.

Notes: Hello dearest ones! Here's the next, long-awaited chapter. Wow, it's been a long time, no? I felt so bad, because you all kept giving me these amazing reviews, and then I didn't have time to write _anything_. But you all have been wonderful! I am so lucky to have such great readers! Now, I know several of you had concerns that maybe I'd given up on this fic and wasn't going to write anymore. Let me assure you that I will not stop writing until it's finished. This thing is my baby. I will not give up on it! (He he. So dramatic!) Anyway, I just wanted to address that issue real quick, so that all of you are aware that, even if takes me awhile to update, an update _will_ come. Speaking of updates! Check my bio page for updates on updates! That's right, if you want to know how a chapter's coming along before I upload it, check my bio page, I'll let you know what's going on there. Also, my best friend has just started writing for (what? Me get her hooked into it? I don't know what you're talking about. I would never do such a thing), and you should check her stuff out. Her pen name is **Gratia**. She hasn't written much yet, but she will, so keep an eye out for it. Sirius is her specialty. Anyway, that's all I have to say for now, so read away and enjoy!

**Chapter Six: Nap Necessity**

It was seven o'clock in the morning, and Hermione was eating breakfast in the Great Hall. This was not at all strange, as she usually ate breakfast at seven in the morning, but one thing made _this_ particular instance rather peculiar: she was alone. Completely and utterly alone. Aside from herself, her toast, and a mug of coffee, she was entirely without companionship. Despite the fact that there had never before been a morning when Hermione had come down to eat at seven and found the Great Hall empty, Hermione did not seem particularly perturbed. Perhaps this was because she was reading.

Or perhaps it was because she knew that no one who _wasn't _completely mad ate breakfast at seven on a Saturday.

Unconcerned as to the fact that her breakfast habits were more than a little uncouth, Hermione (who had actually been in the Great Hall since _six_) happily turned a page in the book she was reading, and took another bite of toast.

Not that this was a usual thing for Hermione at all. Oh no. Truthfully, Hermione didn't usually eat breakfast on _Saturdays_ until seven-_thirty_ (all right, ten, if that—the boys weren't always up by then), but today she had a purpose. A good purpose, a worthy purpose, a purpose whose name was—

"Ron! Can't you, just for once, just for five minutes, just a little, take it easy on us? Please! Harry won't let us off till we've scored on you, and ever since that last game, you've been worse than ever!"

"Yeah, Ron! Give us a break! Besides, we three Chasers are getting rather discouraged; it's not good for team moral, you know."

Hermione looked up from her book with an air of glad expectancy as the loud voices rang through the entrance hall. Her eyes swung around just in time to catch sight of Harry slinging his arms around the shoulders of his two female Chasers in a consoling manner as the Gryffindor Quidditch team made their way into the Great Hall.

"It's no good girls; haven't you heard? Ron's adopted Moody's motto." He dropped a kiss on the top of Ginny's head and let them both go, his eyes focused on Hermione's smiling face, a smirk already hovering on his own.

"That's right," agreed his redheaded friend, thrusting his index finger into the air above his head with gusto, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

"So funny, Ron," muttered Ginny, smacking her brother's hand away when he reached to tousle her hair. He managed it anyway, laughing.

"Hello, Hermione!" said Harry slyly, sitting himself down across from her. "And what are _you _doing up so early on this bright and shining Saturday morning—"

"—when all who are _sane_ are still _in bed_," finished Dennis Creevey, dropping into the seat on Hermione's right. Hermione shook her head and frowned briefly at Harry, who was once again grinning at her like he knew something she didn't (_I'm beginning to hate that grin…_), then smiled suddenly and leaned forward.

"Is it really sunny out today?" she asked eagerly. It had rained every day for the past week; not a day since the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match had they caught sight of the sun. Hermione was definitely a sun person.

"It is actually," said Ron, sitting on Hermione's other side and teasingly preventing his sister from sitting next to Harry by putting his feet up in her seat. He received a sharp smack in the shin for his trouble, and dropped his feet to the floor. Ignoring his sister's muttered 'serves you right' in response to his half-hearted glare, Ron turned his full attention to his strangely wakeful friend. "Or it will be, when the sun finishes rising properly," here a pointed look at Harry, who purposefully ignored it. Hermione laughed, which brought Ron's attention back to her for the third time in as many minutes. Affectionately exasperated thoughts about his attention span and toddlers flickered across her mind then dissipated when those bright blue eyes narrowed suddenly.

"Hermione. What _are_ you doing up?" His tone was accusatory, and she bristled.

"Ron, since when is it a crime for someone to get up early?" She rolled her eyes.

"It's not," he told her, buttering his waffles and then slathering them in warm maple syrup, "but even _you_ never get up this early on Saturday, and it just seems a little strange."

"How would you know how early I get up on Saturday?" she demanded indignantly. He stared at her for several seconds before shaking his head and taking a bite of his breakfast.

"Because," he replied, when his mouth was sufficiently empty to permit speech, "you eat breakfast with _us_ every Saturday."

"Except for this morning," interrupted Harry, shooting Ron a meaningful look that he didn't seem to get, "when we had Quidditch practice and wouldn't have been—wait, no. Here you are, eating breakfast with us. Never mind." Ron stared at him, then blinked and turned back to Hermione.

"Except for this morning, you eat breakfast with us every Saturday, so I would know when you eat breakfast."

"For all you know, I come down early and eat before I eat with the two of you."

"No, because you always take a shower before breakfast; your hair is always wet. And I've heard Lavender and Parvati complain about your long showers, so I know you wouldn't have time to eat, take a shower, and still be done in time to eat again with us. Besides, your stomach isn't big enough for two breakfasts." He took another bite of food, then looked at her sharply. Reaching out, he buried a hand in her hair. "It's barely damp. Just how long have you been up, anyway?" Embarrassed, even though she did have a perfectly legitimate reason for being up so early, and flustered by Ron's actions, Hermione tried to ignore his hand on her head and searched desperately for a way to change the subject.

"Why was practice this morning so early anyway?" she asked, a little too quickly. Ron frowned, but Ginny, grinning sarcastically, answered before he could say anything.

"We all wanted to go to Hogsmeade today, but Harry wasn't willing to give up practice, so we compromised—"

"—if by compromise you mean getting up at four-thirty, in the cold and the dark, just to practice against a ridiculously vigilant Keeper in front of an obsessively zealous captain, anyway," Katie added, leaning around Ginny to look pointedly at her captain.

"All right! All right!" Harry laughed. "I get the idea! But I do seem to recall that it was you two who wanted enough time to shower and 'get ready' before we left for Hogsmeade, so technically, it's your own faults practice was scheduled as early as it was." Ginny and Katie's protests rose immediately, and Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke were soon forced to jump to Harry's rescue amid much laughter and argument.

Meanwhile, ignoring the debate brewing across the table, Ron moved his hand from Hermione's hair (much to her relief) and placed it instead under her chin (which caused her greater panic than before). Cupping her face gently in his palm, he curled his long fingers around her jaw and turned her face towards his, his expression concerned.

"Why are you up so early, 'Mione?" he asked her softly. "Why are you eating breakfast before ten?" She hesitated, searching for an excuse, but when she finally met his gaze with her own, the care and concern she saw there captured her, and she couldn't bring herself to lie to him.

"I never went to bed, Ron." She saw him flinch, but plunged ahead before he could interrupt. He would know just by looking at her anyway, and she had to get it out. "I couldn't sleep, not after last night, and so I just stayed up and read. But then I was still feeling so lonely and scared this morning, and I didn't know what to do because you two were already at practice, and I didn't feel comfortable waking my roommates, so I just took a shower and came down to breakfast to wait for you." The night before, right around ten, the three of them (she, Ron and Harry), had somehow ended up being the only ones in the common Room (odd because the common room was always full on Fridays), and Harry had been asleep on one of the couches. Hermione had just finished her Potions essay and was beginning one for Transfiguration when Harry had started dreaming. It hadn't been anything big at first, just a little restlessness, but then he'd started to toss and turn, sweating profusely and muttering long, incoherent sentences punctuated by screaming or shouts of 'no!' It had been terrible; she'd almost started to cry just watching him. Then Ron had calmly set aside his homework, stood up from his chair, and shook Harry violently, calling his name. He'd come awake with a start, clutching his head and panting. Grabbing hold of Ron's sleeve with one trembling hand, he looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Not-a nightmare-Ron," he'd gasped, his knuckles going white. "Another one-not a nightmare." He shook his head and moaned, leaning forward against his friend. "Don't-read the paper-tomorrow. Just-don't-read it."

"All right, Harry. No papers." He put an arm about Harry's waist and pulled him to his feet, supporting most of his weight himself since Harry couldn't seem to stand up straight yet, and looked down at Hermione. "I'm taking him up to bed. You should get some sleep." Then he smiled a strained smile that was supposed to be comforting but wasn't, and helped Harry up the stairs. She _had_ gone up to bed afterwards, but had spent the night huddled in her covers reading, too worried to go to sleep, too afraid to.

Now Ron looked at her searchingly. "You knew he was having those dreams, Hermione. Why is it bothering you so much more now than before?"

"Before he wasn't having them right in front of me," she whispered back. "I didn't realize how bad they were."

"They're not that bad. I mean, yes they are, but it's much better now than it used to be. The Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore have helped a lot, and on the rare occasion that he does have one, they're usually mild. Yesterday was the exception, not the rule."

"I'm still scared," she admitted quietly.

"What can I do to make it better for you, 'Mione?"

"I don't know." She felt lost. He looked at her for a moment, then reached out his arm and pulled her in for a tight one-armed hug.

"Hey, hey, hey," said Ginny immediately from across the table. "What are you doing, Ron? Get your arm off of Hermione. Unless there's something you'd like to tell us?" she added suggestively. Hermione blushed as Ron jerked his arm away, but rolled her eyes at her friend.

"Friends are allowed to hug, Ginny," she told her, and took a sip of her coffee. Ginny merely grinned at her and turned back to her boyfriend, leaving Hermione to think in peace.

Ginny's matchmaking efforts were definitely getting a little out of hand, Hermione decided. As if the mistletoe thing at Christmas hadn't been bad enough, she had been dropping embarrassingly obvious hints for almost a month now. It was ridiculous, really. Not that it mattered. It was obvious by the way Ron always jerked as far away from her as he could at any such comment from anybody that he wasn't interested. She sighed. So here they were, full circle. She helplessly head over heels, stuck sitting irritatingly close to the object of her affections, while he went on as though…well she didn't really know. He couldn't not know she was interested; she didn't see how he could be so ignorant after all his sister had said and done, but he didn't behave as if anything had changed between them either. Well, except for the fact that he had been more affectionate lately. Maybe he did fancy her…she shook her head and yawned. She really was tired and this train of thought was getting her nowhere. Not to mention if Ron's elbow touched her one more time… Retrieving her book from the table beneath a plate of waffles, Hermione stood and made as if to leave.

"Hermione, where are you going?" Harry had reached across the table, half standing out of his seat to reach her, and grabbed hold of her wrist. "We haven't finished breakfast yet." She smiled at him.

"I need to go to bed, Harry," she told him softly. "I'll see you all when you get back from Hogsmeade."

"Bed? Wait, you're not coming with us? What-"

"Just let it go, Harry," Ron interrupted, prying their friend's hand loose. But Harry looked distinctly upset all of the sudden.

"Is this because of yesterday? Because I'm really sorry about that, Hermione," he told her earnestly, voice soft. "I really am." Her eyes widened.

"No, Harry," she told him, "it wasn't your fault. It's okay, really." She held his hand between her own and squeezed it gently, then let go and left the room.

Bed. It really did sound nice.

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Hermione was awoken suddenly by a loud bang followed by noisy swearing. Sitting up, she looked around the common room, where she had decided to take her nap when she couldn't fall asleep in her dorm, and flung her blanket over the back of the couch. Taking note of the light outside the window, she realized she had been sleeping several hours and had probably missed lunch. A scuffing sound interrupted her train of thought then, and she turned to the portrait hole, curious.

"Ron?" she yawned, catching sight of him standing just inside the door, holding a hand to his head. Then she got a good look at him. "Ron!" she cried, jumping out of her seat and racing to his side. "What happened?"

Ron was covered in mud, blood, and bruises, not the least of which was a great black eye, already dark and quickly swelling. He had obtained several cuts on his face and arms, a skinned knee through the hole in his jeans, and the hand which was covering a large bump on his head was bruised rather badly across the knuckles. She frowned as she led him back to her couch. It looked like he had been in a fight. "Ron?"

All he said was, "Malfoy." She sighed and dug her wand out of the bag by her feet. She performed a quick scouring charm to get rid of all the mud, then summoned warm water (mixed with antiseptic) in a bowl, and a rag. Carefully cleaning his cuts and studiously ignoring his hissing and cries of "it stings!" she listened as he explained that he had run into Malfoy on his way to meeting Harry and Ginny at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. They had exchanged words, then blows, had been pulled apart by a group of passing Ravenclaws, Ron had received detention from one irritated Snape as he passed by, and here he was.

"You really have to stop this, Ron," she told him with a sigh, carefully wrapping his bruised hand in white bandages. "If you didn't get into so many fights with Malfoy, Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have refused to heal any more of your 'battle wounds' and you wouldn't have to suffer through my clumsy muggle treatments instead."

"Well, if you would just study healing spells, we wouldn't have this problem. I can't believe there's something you don't know how to do…"

"I know the theory, Ron, but you're not supposed to try these things unsupervised. It's like apparating; it's far too easy to make mistakes with spells like that. I could very well open a cut wider rather than closing it up and have to watch as you bled to death at my feet. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not risk it. We'll just have to wait until Harry gets back with Ginny. She's been training under Madam Pomfrey, she'll know how to heal them properly. Besides, if you hadn't been fighting, you wouldn't have cuts and bruises to be healing. What did he do this time, look at you?"

"Hermione, you know I never beat him up just for-Ow Hermione! That hurts!-just for looking at me; I wait until he provokes me."

"Oh don't be such a baby, Ron. So what did he say, then, that was so terrible you had to attack him in the middle of Hogsmeade?"

"He asked where you were," he replied, looking away from her. She glanced up at him sharply.

"He called me a mudblood then."

"Don't _say_ that word. It's a dirty word, it shouldn't be coming out of your mouth." She was still staring at him; he still wouldn't look at her.

"But that's what he said," she stated, eyes searching his face.

"Yeah, that's what he said," Ron affirmed, eyes dropping to his bandaged hand, which he flexed experimentally, and winced when it hurt to do so.

"Stop that," she ordered absently, putting her hand over his to stop him moving it. "Ron, it's just a word. It's cruel and derogatory, but it can't really hurt me, especially if I'm not there to hear it." His reaction came so fast it startled her. Jerking his hand out from under her own, he leapt to his feet and stood towering over her, positively glaring.

"It _does_ hurt!" he shouted. "I've seen the look on your face when he says it. It hurts you to be called that, and it hurts me to hear him talk about you that way. I will _not_ let him get away with it, not so long as I'm there to stop him!"

"Ron…" He glared down at her for several seconds then dropped suddenly onto the couch. He stared out the nearby window.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"No, Ron. I shouldn't have scolded you." He was still staring out the window. She put her hand on his arm, and his eyes met hers. "Thank you for defending me," she told him sincerely. He nodded and looked away again.

Silence.

"Let me see your other hand." For the next ten minutes, she tended to his remaining cuts and bruises, then shook her head when she finished. "I hope Malfoy looks at least half this bad," she muttered to herself. "He really beat you up." Ron grinned and stretched gingerly, yawning.

"Nnn, worse. Much worse." He dropped his arms, then winced.

"Do be careful, please." She said dryly, picking up her book from a side table and flipping it open. He made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat and yawned again.

"I'm really tired," he muttered.

"Then go take a nap."

He looked at the stairs to the boys' dorm, then considered the couch on which they sat, then back to the stairs…and decisively stretched out across the couch.

Hermione, who had not gotten up, started in surprise as Ron's head landed in her lap. Several seconds were required for her to recover from the shock, then she scowled.

"No, Ron! Not here!" She pushed at his shoulder in an attempt to roll him off the couch, but he was too heavy and only laughed at her. "For one, you're _laying_ on me and you're heavy" _not that I really mind,_ "and secondly, you're in _my_ napping spot!"

"You've already _had_ a nap today, it's my turn. Besides, you're reading anyway, and I'm comfortable. Now quit moving around and let me go to sleep."

"Ron!" she exclaimed, outraged.

"Hermione!" he mocked in a high pitched voice, copying her tone, then pointedly closed his eyes and shifted so that he was more comfortable. She looked down at him, taking up the entire couch with his legs hanging off over the arm, and shook her head.

"You're _impossible_, you know that?"

"Mmm, yeah," he muttered sleepily. "But you love me anyway." She snorted, but allowed herself to smile fondly down at him, since he couldn't see it anyway. Shaking her head again, she gave up. Grumbling quietly, just for show, she found her page from earlier that morning and began to read.

Ten minutes later found Ron, covered in Hermione's blanket, deeply asleep on her lap, and Hermione smiling gently as she attempted for the fifth time to finish her page, one hand holding the book, and the other playing with Ron's thick red hair.

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She ignored him as he sat down in a nearby chair and pulled it around to face her, grinning madly.

"Are you sure there's nothing you'd like to share, Hermione?" he asked her quietly.

"There's nothing _to_ share," she whispered back.

"Really? That's not what I think. I think you-"

"You think? Wow, I'd no idea. I certainly couldn't tell from the homework you've done this week. Tell me, does it hurt? Thinking, I mean." He glared at her, and she ignored that too, keeping her eyes firmly glued to her book.

"I'll have you know it takes a great deal of thought and imagination to do my divination homework, and I finished _that_ last night."

She turned the page. "Ooo, sorry. I had no idea it took so much effort for you to come up with lines like 'fall into lake next Thursday-get eaten by giant squid.' My mistake."

"Eaten by the giant squid? How come I didn't think of tha-_Hey_!" He cried softly, and glared again. "Sarcasm does not become you."

"I do apologize."

"You're not sorry at all."

"Really?" His eyes narrowed.

"I know what you're doing," he whispered. "You think I don't notice, but I have. You're trying to distract me, but it won't work. I _will_ have my say. Do you know why?"

"You're annoying? No, no idea."

"Hermione, you're really not cooperating here. What kind of friend are you anyway?"

"One who likes to avoid embarrassing situations?"

He snorted softly. "Little late for that, now, isn't it? Which brings us back to the topic at hand. I was trying to say that I think you-" Now she looked up. He was grinning again as he spoke, and she glared.

"Harry." She interrupted. "You're irritating me."

"Am I? I hadn't noticed." He was grinning more broadly than ever. She scowled.

"Go. away."

"But Hermione, we haven't hardly seen each other all day; I've missed you!" He whispered sorrowfully, and batted his eyelashes at her in innocence. "Besides, I'm having too much fun to leave now."

"I'll bet."

"You fancy him, you know you do. Why don't you just admit it?"

"Why are we having this conversation here? Why are we having this conversation at all?"

"Because we're best friends. Aren't we supposed to tell each other everything, or something like that?"

She stared at him. "Funny. You look like Harry. You sit like Harry, you certainly smell like Harry ("Hey, just what are you implying?"), but you _sound _like Lavender. Why is that?"

"Ha. Ha. Cute. But seriously, you're a girl, Hermione-"

"Am I really?" He ignored her.

"-but we're always doing _boy_ best friend things. I'm just trying to relate to you like a girl, you know, on your _own level_."

Her eyes widened and she went rigid. He was teasing, she knew, but still…

"Harry Potter," she hissed, glaring at him, her face radiating fury, "if I were able to get up-"

"Lucky me you're not able to then." He sat back in his chair, utterly relaxed. "Remind me to thank Ron later, would you?"

"You're going to die."

"Eventually, yes. You know, I'm beginning to see why Ron enjoys arguing with you," he mocked gently. "You're so _cute_ when you're angry. Of course I don't have the same motive he has…"

"Harry, run get Ginny for me would you?" she asked him sweetly. He eyed her suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Because I want to apologize for her loss."

He frowned. "For her _what_?"

"Her loss. Seeing as how she's going to be short a boyfriend as soon as Ron wakes up."

"Who's going to be short a boyfriend?" asked a voice from behind.

Hermione looked over her shoulder at Ginny, who'd just come through the portrait hole. "You are," she answered.

"Really?" Ginny frowned. "Why?"

"Because he can't keep quiet, so I'm going to kill him as soon as Ron wakes up."

"Oh." She considered her boyfriend with suspicion. "Does he really deserve it?"

"Ginny!" Harry protested. Both girl's ignored him.

"He said he was trying to relate to me as a girl. On my own level," Hermione told her.

"As if the boy level were higher than the girl level?"

"That's the impression I got."

"Oh," she said again. "Here, let me help you." And with that, she grabbed hold of Ron's feet, braced herself, and jerked sharply to the left. He tumbled knee first off the couch and hit the floor with a thud.

"Ouch! What the-" He sat up, rubbing his shoulder. No one was paying attention to him.

"Harry." Hermione glowered at him "Run." He needed no further prompting. The raven-haired Quidditch captain was on his feet and out the door in a flash, Hermione right on his heels. Ron stared after them.

"What was that all about?"

"Revenge, I think. Well deserved revenge."

"_Harry_ made Hermione mad?" He was incredulous.

"Seems that way."

"Weird."

"Yeah." She looked down at him, frowned. "What'd you do to yourself?" He blinked, face blank, trying to remember. Screaming was heard from the corridor outside. Ginny sighed and brandished her wand.

"Let's see if we can't heal those."

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Well, that's it for chapter six: ten and a half pages of Ron and Hermione goodness. It's a little weird, I think, but I felt so bad about having taken so long to update that I sat down and pounded a chapter out in two days. It doesn't even contain the events that I had planned to include in chapter six; I guess those will have to wait until chapter seven. Anyway, I'm not sure how I like this chapter yet, nor how long it will take me to update the next one. Next week is the last week of school but I'll have to unpack when I get home, and look for a job, so there's no telling. But I'll do the very best I can, I promise. At the very least, I'll try not to take as long as I did to upload this one. If you ever get curious, however (for those of you who didn't read the note at the top, shame on you! That's right, I _know_ some of you skip that part), as to how I'm doing on uploading a chapter, I try to keep my bio page, in the Seasonal Suffering or Daily Update sections, updated so that you can all know how the current chapter is progressing and how soon I think it will come out. Or you could e-mail me. I love e-mails. Anyway, that's all for now. I'll see you in chapter seven!

Review, review, review!


	7. Perturbed Preparations

**Seasonal Suffering**

Disclaimer: As always, they're not mine, not a place, person, thing or spell in this story belongs to me. It's all Ms. Rowling's, yep.

Notes: Hello again true and faithful readers! It is I, the long absent author of this story! Er…how 'bout I put the rest of my notes at the end, as I know you're all skipping this part to read the story anyway, so long has it taken me to update… (sorry, sorry…)

**Chapter Seven: Perturbed Preparations**

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall with Ginny eating breakfast. The early Tuesday morning Quidditch practice was over, and most of the team had retreated to the common room already, too tired to bother eating breakfast (including, much to Hermione's chagrin, one Ron Weasley. He really was very handsome in his Quidditch kit). Only Ginny had chosen to stay downstairs with her, and even that was only because they were plotting.

"We only have four days, Hermione. We don't have time to think of something else. Besides, this is perfect!"

Hermione knew all too well that they only had four days. She'd been counting down with increasing panic for weeks. And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday, and she had no idea what to do. It had been several weeks since the match against Slytherin, and nothing of any real interest had happened between she and Ron since then. She was beginning to second guess herself again. She sighed.

"It's not perfect."

"How so?"

"It involves violating at least _five _major school rules, Ginny. We could get in a lot of trouble."

"Oh, Hermione, be reasonable. It's Girls' Day! Since when have we ever had a Girls' Day in which rules were not broken? Not to mention the fact that our last Girls' Day was rather impressive; it would only be a disappointment, to ourselves and to the school as a whole, if we did anything less so this time. And besides, we have to have Girls' Day before Valentine's Day. You know very well why."

"No."

"We'll get to wear the masks again," Ginny sang, tauntingly waving a knitted ski cap before her face.

"You think that's going to work again? I've worn that thing. It's constricting and makes breathing difficult, not to mention all the little lines it leaves on my face when I take it off. No. Absolutely not."

"You're not even tempted a little bit?"

"Not in the least."

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It had dawned a beautiful day and Ginny was feeling pleasantly relaxed. Birds were chirping, the sun was shining brightly, and light from outside was streaming merrily through one of the common room windows behind her and washing across the pages of her book, making it easier to read.

It was also ten below outside.

Ginny snuggled down in her chair, enjoying the warmth of the nearby fire. All the perks of the outdoors, and not a one of the discomforts. She loved winter.

The common room portrait opened and closed.

"I don't know how you do it," Hermione stated warmly, planting her hands on her hips and glowering down at Ginny, who was still reading. "How do you always manage to get me to do these ridiculous things for you?" She shook her head. "I must be going mad."

"It's a gift," Ginny replied with a smile, putting her finger on her page to mark her spot and looking up at her friend. "You filched it then?"

"Just now." Hermione threw a shimmering bundle down on the table, and Ginny had to reach quickly to catch it before the oddly liquid-like object slid off the table onto the floor.

It was Thursday morning, two days before Valentine's Day, they were in the common room, and Hermione was feeling distinctly nervous. Not because it would soon be Valentine's Day mind you. No, because tonight was the night they were to execute "the plan" (she had told Ginny, when the other girl had begun calling the plan "the plan," that this was a highly boring, supremely unoriginal name, but Ginny had simply ignored her). She was, however, more excited than nervous. After all, it was Girls' Day, and no matter how many school rules they might be breaking, it was still going to be the most fun she'd had in a while. Studying had taken up far too much of her time lately, and she was beginning to think she might be nagging the boys just a little more than she ought to. They were starting to let their aggravation show.

Hermione glanced over at Ginny then, her co-conspirator and accomplice in crime. The other girl caught her eye and grinned wickedly, and Hermione felt herself grinning smugly back. No matter how much she protested, she really couldn't think of anything more fun than going through the day, knowing you were going to break countless school rules in less than twelve hours, when no one else was in on the secret. Except, perhaps, the actual breaking of the rules.

"Good." Ginny bundled the invisibility cloak into her bag and settled back in her chair. "How'd you do it?"

"How'd you filch Ron's jumper?" Hermione replied pointedly, throwing herself into an armchair. Ginny looked down at the thick black sweater she was wearing over her own t-shirt as if she'd never seen it before. She looked like a child, huddled in the over-large garment, an impression only strengthened when she grinned impishly and winked.

"Thief-master's secret."

Hermione grinned back. "Mine too."

"Hermione! No fair. I really want to know! This is the third time you've filched Harry's cloak without him noticing, and I want to know how you're doing it. Every time I try, I get caught, and then I get in trouble!" She scowled darkly at Hermione then and spoke in a significantly deeper tone. "You can't just take my cloak like that, Gin," the red-head said, in a fairly good imitation of her angry boyfriend. "What if something came up and I needed it? I'd not be able to find it, and then where would I be? Next time you want to use it, just ask me. Then at least I know where it is." Hermione stared incredulously at her friend, then burst out laughing.

"Unbelievable!" she cried, her voice strangled by laughter loud enough to attract the attention of everyone else in the room.

Said attention went unnoticed.

"I understand his point," Ginny acquiesced, "but it's frustrating because you get away with it every time! Please Hermione," she clasped her hands beneath her chin pleadingly, "Please, I am _begging_ you; just tell me how you do it! How is it you never get in trouble, and I always do?"

"You better hope Ron doesn't see you in that jumper, Miss Master, or you'll be in _real_ trouble. He's been looking for it for days." Ginny grinned.

"I know. That's half the fun." Hermione shook her head and rose to leave.

"Come on, Hermione," Ginny pleaded, grabbing the older girl's arm. "Tell me how you do it. If you do, I'll tell you how I pinch Ron's jumpers." Hermione smiled benignly.

"I'll not tell you how I get the cloak; it's too much fun watching you beg." Hermione replied, making her way to the portrait hole and putting one hand out to rest on its edge before looking back over her shoulder. "And you use the summoning charm; don't think I don't know it. I still have preparations to make; I'll see you later." With that, Hermione climbed out, the portrait shutting quietly behind her.

Ginny gaped.

"How does she _do_ that?"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the portrait hole, down the corridor and around one corner, the very amused and certainly self-satisfied Hermione had just run headlong into one Ron Weasley, who had only just managed to keep them both from toppling head over heels down the staircase behind him, which he had just finished climbing.

"Uh, hello," said the now flustered and confused Hermione, still trying to grasp how she'd gone from skipping happily down the empty corridor one minute, to being completely surrounded by all that was Ron (that being arm, strength, warmth, and that ever present permeating boy-cologne smell that made her weak in the knees) the next. _Ron? Of course it would be Ron. Oh, I am _such _a _klutz_! How embarrassing… _Ron, for his part, was more amused than startled (as Hermione was rarely ever found skipping about, much less losing herself in ridiculous situations such as slamming into people as she rounded corners), and so answered in a tone of mixed surprise and amusement-

"Hello yourself," and shifted both their weight so that the arm bracing them against the wall (thus stopping their backward momentum) was now free to embrace and support his embarrassed friend (_He's hugging me!_). There was a moments hesitation on his part when he noticed the redness of her ears (not being able to see the rest of her face, as it was hidden by his chest) before he asked her sweetly-

"Are you all right?"

Hermione cringed. _I just completely embarrassed myself by running headlong into you, and now you're hugging me! What do you think? _

"Physically, yes. But my pride may be damaged beyond repair." Ron laughed, an attractive sound that, heard as it was ringing though his ribcage, made Hermione blush an even deeper shade of red, and thus bury her face even further in the front of his jumper. Which, of course, caused Ron's laughter to be cut off in a strangled sound of slight embarrassment. His recovery was quick however, and the grin soon returned.

"Ah," he said, grin widening, "that would explain the redness of your ears." She felt him take hold of one between two fingers and pinch it gently to show he had noticed, which only made them redden farther. Unable to come up with an adequate response, aside from the involuntary embarrassment it seemed she could not avoid, Hermione resorted to anger.

"Ron, you- you- argh!" And she threw up her hands between them and stormed past him down the stairs, his laugh following her grumbling, blushing form all the way down and out of sight.

Several hours later, found Hermione standing in the hall, holding tightly to a long, unwieldy bundle and eyeing the library door warily. She was still grumbling unhappily, occasionally about the embarrassing incident with Ron earlier (the thought of which still turned her cheeks and nose pink), but mostly about that best friend's errant sister. She'd been trying to track down Ginny for the last hour, and the library was her last resort before she threw herself off the astronomy tower in frustration and spent the rest of her days haunting Ginny with Peeves-like enthusiasm. She'd looked everywhere else, and if Ginny wasn't here, she really might have to take drastic measures.

She approached the library door and jerked it open, looking accusingly around every part of the library she could see. Luckily for the both of them, Hermione's eyes soon fell on a thatch of long red hair pulled back in a braid, and the brunette witch grinned in triumph as she shifted her awkward bundle and marched over to Ginny's table.

"There," she said firmly, dropping her burden onto the table. "Is that everything?" Ginny looked up from her homework and grabbed the rolled banner from the table's surface.

"Let's see," she replied, consulting a list as she transferred the banner to the floor. "Invisibility cloak, marauder's map, money, banner, list of things we need… Oh, did you remember to talk to Colin?"

"I talked to him this afternoon, after lunch."

"Then that's everything."

"Good. I'm tired." Hermione sat down across from Ginny with a relieved sigh.

"Already? The fun hasn't even begun yet. Just wait until this evening."

"I can't wait," Hermione replied in a dry voice.

"Your enthusiasm is catching," Ginny copied her tone. "Come on, let's get back to the common room."

"Go back? As in get up first? I'm not sure I can. Playing the part of errand girl today nigh killed me." But she rose to her feet anyway, smiling in a proud, sly way that belied her words and secretly hoping Ron would not be in the common room when they got there, though her sudden good mood allowed her to consider the possibility of facing him without blushing. Ginny eyed her as they made their way up several flights of stairs, down numerous corridors, and through several secret doors to reach the common room. Not once did the grin leave Hermione's face. Ginny shook her head.

"Never again will you be able to convince me you don't enjoy this kind of thing," murmured Ginnycas they reached the portrait hole.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied, then addressed the portrait. "Treacle Fudge."

"Uh-huh," Ginny said, waiting for Hermione to make it through the hole before climbing in after her. "I don't believe you-hey. Why'd you stop?" For Hermione had come to such an abrupt halt that Ginny had very nearly run into the back of her.

"Look." Hermione was pointing at the tops of two heads near the fireplace, one raven and one red, which were bent close together over something on a table in front of them.

"What are they looking at?"

"I haven't any idea." Hermione was distracted enough by the boys' odd behavior that she completely forgot to be embarrassed and followed willingly enough when Ginny said, "Come on, then," and led the way through the common room, around a group of third years playing exploding snap and past three fifth year girls (who were, to Hermione and Ginny's mutual dismay, trying to attract the attention of Hermione's two best friends), to finally stand before the obviously distracted and distressed duo. Obviously distracted because they didn't even notice the two girls' arrival (much less, to the girls' relief, the attention of any other girl in the room), and distressed because they were hotly debating what they were going to do about…something. Hermione and Ginny frowned thoughtfully at one another, dropped their school bags, and leaned over to see what it was that had them so worked up.

Lying on the table before them was a calendar.

_A calendar? What in the world?_

Ginny didn't bother to speculate. "What's wrong? Got a major assignment due that you forgot about?"

The two wizards were apparently very focused on their dilemma because Ginny's question startled them.

"Aaaah!" screeched Harry, jumping (and almost falling) out of his chair.

"Ginny don't _do_ that!" yelped Ron, toppling clean over the side of his and somehow managing to bring it down on top of him. He looked so surprised to find himself on the floor that Hermione couldn't help but laugh, and while she might normally have tried to restrain herself, the incident earlier that afternoon, having been suddenly remembered, prevented her from it. Ginny, wasn't so polite as to even think of restraint. Painfully, the two boys took a moment to straighten themselves out and gather their lost dignity before glaring at their nigh collapsing companions and falling back into their chairs. Almost simultaneously their eyes fell back to the calendar and twin looks of horror reappeared on both their faces. Ginny, calmer now, frowned again.

"So? Is it an assignment then?"

"Erm…no."

"Ron, why is this whole week outlined in red?" Hermione asked, leaning in over the table and pointing in confusion at the week of Valentine's Day, the box for every day of which was outlined in red, with a little matching exclamation point in the corner of each box opposite the date. She looked up to find both boys staring at the mentioned dates with something akin to dread.

"It's just, this is usually about the time you have Girls' Day. We just hadn't realized exactly which week it was going to be." Harry muttered bitterly.

"Oh, you mean the week of Valentine's Day?" Ginny asked innocently at the same time Hermione said-

"We aren't that predictable are we?" Harry looked at Ginny suspiciously.

"Yes and yes" replied Ron, copying Harry's look. Ginny merely smiled.

"Don't worry about it. You won't even notice Girls' Day until after the fact." She and Hermione grinned wickedly at each other. Ron's eyes narrowed and darted back and forth between them.

"What are you two planning?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Never you mind, Ron." And the two girls grabbed their discarded bags from the boys' feet and, snickering to themselves, moved across the room.

"Why do I really not like the looks of this?" Harry asked, staring after his friend and girlfriend suspiciously. "They're up to something."

"Yeah, they are."

"What do you think it is?"

Ron, who had been watching avidly as the two girls seated themselves at a table across the room, suddenly narrowed his eyes. Something about this whole situation had been bothering him, and he'd just figured out what it was.

"More importantly, why is that girl wearing my jumper?"

"Huh?" Harry articulately answered. But Ron wasn't paying any attention to him. Instead, he had surged out of his chair and was now stalking purposefully across the room.

"Ginny Weasley!" he exclaimed when he reached them, pointing a finger in her face and glaring fiercely. "You have been the cause of much pain and anguish in my life this last week, and you will now feel the pain of my wrath!"

"I'm terrified," Ginny deadpanned. "What have I done to raise your ire now?"

"_That_," Ron accused, emphasizing his point with swift jabs of his finger in her direction, "is _my_ jumper. My _favorite_ jumper. I've been looking for it all _week_, and you have not only _stolen_ it, but you have the nerve to _wear_ it. In public no less! I want it back!"

"Well I'm wearing it at the moment. What do you want me to do, run around jumperless?"

"You're wearing a shirt underneath!"

"Am not!"

"You are! The neck of _my_ jumper is hanging off your shoulder, because it's too _big_ for you, because it's _mine_," he stretched out the word, as if she hadn't caught that point already, "and I can see your shirt underneath. It's blue, with little white flowers all over it. So I am not at all concerned about your state of dress should you return my jumper. Which you _will _do _now_!" He made a lunge for her, which she tried to dodge, but she wasn't quite fast enough and he caught her as she leapt to her feet to duck under his arm. Tickling her mercilessly, he demanded she return the jumper and only tickled harder when she refused. But Ginny was no stranger to this kind of manhandling, having been raised with six brothers, of whom Ron was certainly not the biggest (though he was possibly the tallest). She brought her heel down painfully on his instep, causing him to let go with a cry of pain and darted across the room to the safety of her boyfriend's arms. She began complaining so loudly that Hermione, who had been laughing all the while, had real difficulty controlling herself long enough to help Ron up.

"Harry!" She distinctly heard Ginny say. "Your best friend is a psychopathic freak!"

"I'll thank you to specify which best friend when you say things like that!" Hermione called across the room. Ginny just grinned, stuck out her tongue in return and continued her plea for help.

"Just keep him away!"

"You stole his clothes again, Gin. What do you want me to do?"

Hermione turned away from the scene across the room and raised an eyebrow at her red-headed best friend. "Pain and anguish, Ron?"

"That's right. It was a painful separation."

"Was? You notice she still has your jumper, right?" There was a heartbeat's hesitation before he reacted.

"Ginny!"

"Eep! Harry!"

Hermione grinned.

"I really don't think I want to be in the middle of this, Ginny."

"Good choice mate. Wise decision."

"Not wise, not wise at all!"

"I just can't win here can I?" Harry sighed.

"Win? Harry, if you wanted to win once in a while, you are definitely dating the wrong girl. Stubborn that one is-"

"What? _I'm_ stubborn? Have you looked in a mirror recently, Ronald? And you think I-"

"and irritatingly proud. Now if you want a submissive girl-"

"What?"

"or even a reasonable one-"

"_What?_"

"I'm sure we can work something out with one of the girls in _our_ year. I happen to know that-"

"Ronald Weasley, I am going to _kill_ you if you persist on pursuing this train of thought," Ginny growled.

"And _you_ will meet a similar fate if you do not return my jumper. _Now!"_

"Make me."

"Aaargh!" Hands extended like claws, Ron proceeded to chase his sister in tight little circles around his best friend. Looking on helplessly as two of the three most important people in his life faded from intelligent personalities to complete lunatics who trapped him in their ring of insanity and physically prevented him from escaping, Harry grasped at his last remaining link to normalcy with a desperation that only emphasized his pathetic situation.

"Hermione," he whimpered, eyes wide and pleading, "_save_ me."

Hermione, who was already laughing again, now collapsed, stumbling into the table and falling into Ginny's chair, clutching her stomach as tears streamed down her face. Harry's eyes widened even farther as the ever-sane member of their group fell apart right before his eyes.

"Hermione, no!" he cried in a strained voice. "No, no, not you too. _Help_ me Hermione Granger. You're my only hope!" At this, Hermione lost it completely, laughing so hard that no sound came out, and she couldn't even breathe. Still, as Harry's expression grew increasingly frightened, and Ron and Ginny showed no sign of stopping (accompanied by the fact that she _really_ needed to breathe), Hermione found herself struggling to contain her laughter. She gulped down great lungfuls of air, forcing herself to become calm and relaxed, then staggered weakly to her feet. She was still giggling softly in short bursts, and she couldn't seem to walk straight, but she made it to Harry without mishap.

"Now see here!" she managed to get out between giggles, shaking an unsteady finger at her red-headed friends. "Stop this ridiculous behavior." She stepped between the two Weasleys just as Ginny flew past, in her laughter-twisted state of mind thinking that this might stop them some how. Unfortunately, it didn't and she was promptly knocked flat on her back by one Ron Weasley, whose momentum carried them both to the ground when she stepped in front of him. Thus Hermione, having fallen very suddenly, and with a great weight on top of her, found herself shocked into temporary silence. Then she looked up into Ron's startled face, and past him, caught sight of Harry's twisted expression of lingering fear and blossoming concern, (not to mention the realized irony of _Ron's_ running into _her_ on the same day _she'd_ run into _him_) and lost it all over again.

"She's gone mad," said Ron, staring down at her in such shock that he forgot he might be crushing her.

"_She's_ mad!" Harry stared in disbelief at the red-head, then grabbed the back of Ron's collar and pulled him away from their friend. "Get off!" he cried. "You've broken her!" And he knelt at Hermione's side, gathering her convulsing form into the protective circle of his arms as he murmured reassurances into her hair and glared at the Weasley siblings for destroying his only ally in such times of chaos. Oblivious, Hermione continued to laugh.

Wide-eyed, the two Weasleys exchanged glances and backed away slightly. Ron shook his head.

"They're both stark raving mad!"

Ginny nodded. "Complete nutters," she agreed, then removed Ron's sweater and handed it to him. "Here, Ron. If this is the reaction they have when we argue over your clothes, I think it's probably best that you take this back."

Ron nodded. "Yeah." He accepted the garment and backed another step away from the still glaring Harry. "Let's go to the library and get some homework done. Maybe if we go away and come back at dinner, they'll be back to normal."

"I'd like my boyfriend back," Ginny agreed, and picked up her school bag, eyes still glued to the black-haired boy on the floor. "Hermione too."

"Yeah."

Several seconds of silence passed, in which they stared, and Harry glared, and Hermione laughed, and there was no change…and then the Weasleys turned and fled.

SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS

"So. That was quite a show this afternoon," said Hermione, looking up at Ron as they made their way through the castle to the Great Hall, trailing Harry and Ginny down to dinner.

"_You're_ saying so. You should have seen yourself after we stopped running around Harry. I was afraid you'd finally cracked."

"It would have been your own fault, Ron."

"Mine?" he stared down at her incredulously. "How so?"

"Too much time spent with you is bound to make anyone crack. Personally, I'm as amazed as anyone that I've lasted as long as I have." He gaped at her for several seconds, then his look darkened into a glower. All of which she pretended not to notice by not looking at him.

"I resent that remark," he muttered sullenly, "and I'll have you know it's no easier to be around you, oh great high and mighty one."

"Just what is that supposed to mean, Ronald?" Hermione scowled.

"Just what I said. You may not think I'm the easiest person to get along with, but you're not so amicable yourself sometimes."

Her eyes narrowed. "Then why do you stick around?" she asked bitterly, knowing he didn't mean the things he said but still feeling rather hurt. "Nobody's making you stay."

"Because I usually enjoy your company!" he shouted.

"Don't raise your voice to me, Ron Weasley!" she shouted back. "And if you enjoy my company so much why are we even having this argument?"

"I don't know! You're the one who started it!"

"_I_ started it? I don't think so. It was you and your comments about my having 'cracked'!"

"What! But you-" he stopped, let out a deep rumbling sound she knew to be a growl, and turned away. "Oh forget it." She watched, slightly surprised, as he stalked ahead of her, passing Harry and Ginny and disappearing into the Great Hall. Cocking her head to one side, her eyes glued to his back, she decided that he was unfairly cute even when angry. Most people got ugly when they were angry. She knew she got all red in odd splotches across her cheeks, and she frowned, and her hair grew frizzier from all her wildly emphatic arm movements. But Ron, Ron was just cute. His shoulders went all stiff, and his lips were thinned to a line, and his ears turned red in that endearing way, and his eyes turned this dark dark blue and they flashed at you. She smiled. It was hard to stay mad at Ron over little things when he looked at you like that.

Unfortunately, she forgot to stop smiling when she entered the Great Hall, so Ron (thinking she was mocking him) only got angrier and refused to even look at her much less speak to her all through dinner. Thus Hermione was forced to endure sitting in close proximity to him, with all the arm brushing and knee bumping and cologne smelling, without even the luxury and relief of talking to him. She grit her teeth and glared at her plate. _Sometimes Hermione_, she thought to herself, _you are such an idiot_.

About the time she was working up the nerve to turn and apologize, Ginny kicked her under the table and motioned with a jerk of her head toward the door. Hermione sighed. Great, now he'd be mad at her all evening, and maybe tomorrow morning too. This would totally ruin her night. She stood to leave and began to gather her things, ignoring the curious looks of their companions. So what if they'd only been sitting fifteen minutes? Was it a crime to eat quickly?

_Has it only been fifteen minute? It seemed far longer… What am I forgetting? Cloak, gloves, bag,_ she reached for an apple turnover, _dessert. Nope, that's everything._ She moved as if to leave but got no further than turning to step over the bench when Ron grabbed her wrist. He was looking up at her with those gorgeous blue eyes, and even if he hadn't very sincerely followed the look with an apology she still would have forgiven him then and there. Had already as a matter of fact. She smiled down at him in fond reassurance, and ruffled his hair.

_Ah! What are you doing?_ She mentally glared at her hand. _Ever since the tinsel thing at Christmas you haven't been able to leave Ron's hair alone. Really, it's rather ridiculous, and he's going to get suspicious_. Ignoring her mental battle with her hand, her mouth went on to say what needed to be said.

"That's all right, Ron. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said those things to you, even in jest." He smiled at her in reply.

_Bless you mouth!_

"Come on, Hermione!" Ginny was standing at the end of the Gryffindor table, waiting impatiently for her friend to be done talking to her brother.

_Curse you Ginny!_

"Where are you two off to in such a hurry?" Ron's voice recalled her attention. She merely grinned at him and finally stepped over the bench.

"We'll be out late, so don't wait up. Try not to get in any trouble, and please, please, PLEASE! get some homework done. Oh! And don't forget, when Dean opens that new package of animal crackers, other people are sleeping, so play somewhere where they won't have to listen to those ghastly bestial noises." She made a face. So did Ron and Harry.

"Yes, Mother," Ron said in the mocking way they used when she was nagging overmuch. She laughed, kissed his forehead in a playful, motherly way, and darted out the door after Ginny. The younger girl was standing just out side the door, arms crossed over her chest, and an amused look on her face. Already berating herself for her rash actions in the Great Hall, Hermione glared at her, and was grinned at in return. They started down the hall. A few minutes passed away in utter silence, then-

"I saw that."

Hermione scowled. "Shut up."

SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS

It was dark, cold, and well past ten o'clock, and Hermione was crouched uncomfortably in some bushes outside the Three Broomsticks, which she knew also served as an inn. She glanced uncertainly at the shadow situated next to her, only differentiated from all the other shadows around her on this moonless night by the fact that it was slightly darker and had a tendency to shift though there was no breeze. "Gin, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, couldn't we come up with something else?"

"Look Hermione, we've been over this again and again. There is no better Valentine's Day gift in all the world than this, and if that means we have to break in, sneak past hired guards, and convince seven guys who have never met us, don't know anyone we know, and probably won't like us after we wake them up at three in the morning, that this is the one thing they want to do this Saturday more than any other, then we'll do it without hesitation!"

"That's great Ginny, but I only meant that we don't need to crouch in these bushes for another two hours. We could just go in. We're invisible, remember?"

"Oh. Right." Pause. "All right then, let's go." Several minutes of faltering movement passed as the two girls attempted to maneuver their way out of the bushes, around the hedge, and through the door of the tavern without being seen or heard. Hermione wondered briefly after Ginny had stepped on her foot for the third time how she, Ron and Harry had ever fit under this thing. Neither she nor Ginny were very big, and they were having all kinds of difficulty.

Ginny stepped on her foot again.

Hermione fought the urge to sigh.

Eventually the two made it into the tavern and stood inconspicuously in a dim corner. Five minutes later their legs were getting tired and Hermione was pulling Ginny up the stairs.

'Hermione what are you doing?" Ginny hissed as soon as they were out of earshot of…well, anybody.

"They aren't down there Gin, which means that they're already in their room. Rooms? Whatever. The point is they're already up here." Ginny moved to the nearest door and tried the knob.

"Locked."

"Of course it's locked. They're all going to be locked."

"Even the unoccupied ones?"

"If you owned an inn, would you leave unoccupied rooms unlocked?"

"Good point."

"I thought so." She raised her wand, paused, turned to her friend. "Is anyone else staying here Ginny? I'd hate to barge in on someone we didn't expect."

"No, they've booked the whole inn."

"Good. Alohamora."

"Nothing." They tried three more rooms before finally coming across the one they were looking for. They stood outside the door, seething with anticipation.

"Well," said Hermione, "this is it."

Ginny nodded. "Yep." She paused, blinked, looked at her friend. "How can you tell?'

"The light under the doorway?"

"Oh. Why didn't we just look for that in the first place?"

"They might have been asleep."

"But the light is right there! We should have at least looked first!"

Hermione finally looked at her. "You have _no_ imagination."

Ginny groaned and slapped her palm to her forehead dismally. "This super secret agent game is really getting old, 'Mione." Seeing that she was being ignored, Ginny shook her head. "I have created a monster." Hermione just smiled and waved her wand at the door.

"Alohamora." Nothing. No little burst of light, no temporary change in doorknob color, nothing to indicate something had changed. She cocked her head to the side, studying the door carefully, then reached out and cautiously tried the knob. It turned easily in her hand. Ginny gave her a look, and she shrugged.

"Guess we should have tried that in the first place." Ginny rolled her eyes and the two girls peered silently into the room.

"It looks empty," whispered Ginny.

"Yeah," answered Hermione. "Let's go in." They opened the door just wide enough to squeeze through, then shut it carefully behind themselves. They turned around.

"Freeze!"

"Aah!" said Hermione, putting a hand over her heart.

"Aaaaah!" said Ginny, jumping back and slamming shoulder first into the closed door.

"Don't move!" said the seven voices belonging to the members of England's World Cup contending Quidditch team.

Ginny studied the seven wands pointed straight at them for several seconds, then raised one hand.

"We won't move, I promise, but can we take a timeout from this whole hostile/terrified thing for just a minute so I can ask how you knew we were here. We were invisible you know." The invisibility cloak had slid to the floor when the wand-holding Quidditch players startled them so badly that they had released it.

Eight pairs of eyes stared at the red head incredulously.

"Ginny!" Hermione groaned, hiding behind her hands in dismay. _Only Ginny…_

"We could hear you in the hallway," replied one of the seven, as if speaking to a very small, very slow child. Ginny nodded sagely.

"Yes, Hermione is rather loud."

"What! Me? It was you who-"

"Actually," interrupted a different voice, "we could hear you both fairly well. The walls and doors are considerably thinner than they should be, and neither one of you seems capable of quiet. Now that we have that cleared up, perhaps you'd like to tell us why you find it necessary to sneak into our room. We have a match day after tomorrow, and we're in the middle of a strategizing session, so we're not likely to take well to snooping star-struck fans, if that was your goal. In fact, we're likely to call security."

"No no, don't do that!"

"We're not star-struck fans, honestly."

"Yeah, we're not fans at all."

"That's right, we don't even like Quidditch."

"Despise it really."

"Well, maybe not despise."

"Rather enjoy it actually."

"All except for the flying part. Scary that."

"You're such a baby, Hermione."

"Your point!" commanded yet another voice, "I am fast losing my patience!" The two girls looked at each other and sighed.

"Look, it's like this. You're England's World Cup contending team. The best our country has to offer the Quidditch playing world. And my best friends are huge fans. Gigantic. Not to mention rather obsessed." Hermione mentioned this last part with disgust. "And every year that we've been friends (six years now, I think) they've come up with something wonderful for me for Valentine's Day. I think they do it because I've never really like Valentine's Day, and being a girl, Valentine's Day can be especially depressing. So they've always made an extra effort to do something nice. Ginny here is the sister of one, and she's dating the other, so the two of us decided that this year, we should do something nice for the two of them."

"Something spectacular."

"And then we found out that England's Quidditch team would be in Hogsmeade on a day that just happened to coincide with Hogwarts's scheduled Hogsmeade visit and we thought 'that would be perfect. If we could get them to go along with it.'"

"Go along with what?"

Ginny and Hermione exchanged looks again, and Ginny sighed. "Why don't we all sit down? This might take awhile."

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Some three hours later, at nearly two in the morning, Hermione and Ginny staggered sleepily into the common room. As expected it was empty, but the exhausted Hermione breathed a sigh of relief anyway. She had been afraid somebody might still be up to see them in their black espionage outfits and knitted black ski masks. Speaking of which… Hermione yanked hers off with a will, groaning in irritation when her hair floated freely around her head, static from the friction of the cap on the way back from Hogsmeade making it cling to her hand as she attempted to calm the wayward strands.

"Why did I wear this thing?" she grumbled irritably. Ginny looked at her, amused.

"Because you love to play super secret agent, no matter what you say. Don't think I haven't noticed the theme song, Hermione. You've been humming it all evening." If she had been any less tired, Hermione might have blushed, but as it was, she just wanted to sleep. Ignoring her static hair and rubbing her hands over her face to relieve the itching she felt when the ski mask-created lines began to smooth out, she mumbled a goodnight to Ginny and stumbled up the stairs. She and Ginny had been up, preparing, since six that morning; it had been a long day.

Ten minutes later, tucked safely in bed with the curtains drawn around her and her favorite flannel pajamas pulled close about her sides, she reflected that, on the whole, it had been a good day.

But Saturday would be even better.

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Friday evening…

It was rather late and the common room was quiet except for the soft rustle of paper and the scratch of quills on parchment. It was also very nearly empty. Not many could handle the oppressive silence strictly enforced by a certain sixth year prefect when she had missed a day of studying and was looking to miss another one. Between the Valentine's Day Hogsmeade trip the next day, and Hermione's trip to town with Ginny the night before, our frizzy haired heroine was feeling a little behind. She frowned at the thought of all her lost time and began to read the textbook in her lap twice as quickly as before.

This lasted about ten seconds. Partly, this was because no matter how hard she tried to concentrate, the fact of the matter was, Hermione was tired. She had been up very late last night, and she not only looked it, she felt it. But partly this lapse in her ability to read twice as fast as before was due to a certain red head of whom Hermione was particularly fond.

"Hermione?" The voice was soft and hesitant, and she suppressed the urge throw her textbook at its owner. Cute the boy may be, but he was big on interruptions this evening. He and Harry both, with all the laughing and the sighing and the sniggering and the not studying and…

"Hermione?" Hermione started and looked up.

"Yes Ron?"

"Do you have the notes for McGonagall's essay? I'm missing mine."

Hermione sighed.

"_Professor_ McGonagall," she corrected absently. "They're in my bag, Ron." He dug down into her bag as she turned back to her notes, but she paused when she noticed Ron sitting in his seat, looking exceptionally puzzled and staring at something black dangling from his hand.

"Hermione?" he asked, "why do you have a ski mask in your bag?" Hermione merely took it from him, smiled, and went back to her work.

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And now I'll write my author's notes. Normally I'd cringe at the thought of writing the "big paragraph o' notes" down here (my muse cries out at the loss of effect the ending has when I distract the reader with long paragraphs of my ramblings after the completion of his genius), but I know better than to think anyone will read them at the top this time around. I've taken too long to update, I have.

For which I'm sooooooo sorry! I apologize profusely and humble myself before my patient readers that they may know the depths of my apologeticalness! (You like that word? I made it up myself!) Anyway, I thought, gee, now that I'm home for summer, I'll have more time to write. Nope. Between painting/re-modeling my room, work, and the various little things that popped up to prevent my one-on-one time with my computer, I just didn't manage it. As it is, this is really only half of what I had planned for this chapter, but I realized quite suddenly, after re-reading that bit about Ron and the ski-mask in Herm's bag, that it was a natural stopping point… so I stopped. Well, not entirely. I actually went back and re-wrote some earlier stuff, edited a thing or three thousand, and added the whole scene where Hermione runs into Ron, as well as a few other tidbits that wouldn't be in here if I hadn't stopped when I did…But there's still a whole 'nother half to come! Yay! And that's still not the last chapter. Double Yay! (Of course I would find time to update as soon as I get back to school. "Blech!" is what I say to school). Anyway, since I was planning to have the other half posted with this half, it's partially written already, and hopefully will be out within a week to a month. But school is super busy/stressful this semester, so I refuse to make any commitments as to how long it will be exactly, except to say that I sincerely hope it won't take me till Christmas (and it shouldn't, but there's no telling with my schedule; I haven't much free time). So. I will work on that as soon as possible, and get that out (it's sooo much fluffier than this part, that's the biggest reason I hated splitting it in half! There's this really sweet scene where Ron-well, it's the best scene so far (no really!) so I can't tell you yet. But I promise the next part is very fluffy). In the mean time-review! Tell me how frustrated you were that I took so long, yell at me, e-mail me, give me your opinion, anything, just let me know what you're thinking! For now, I have to go find a title for this chapter and update my bio page. Bye!

P.S. (heh heh) If any of you needs a beta reader, I'd be more than willing. I have time for a _little_ of that (since things to be beta'd can be printed, edited on the go, and e-mailed back, whereas writing involves sitting down at a desk with a computer…). A _little_, mind, not a lot. Just let me know.


	8. Valentine Venture

**Seasonal Suffering**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely related to Harry Potter. Nope, that all belongs to that brilliantly creative lady, J.K. Rowlings.

Notes: Yay! Chapter eight is posted only a little over a month later than the last chapter. Really, that's longer than I wanted, but really good considering how much extra stuff my muse decided to toss in last minute (and that this thing was only five-eight pages long when I started, and is something like 27 pages long now). That and school has been a pain in my backside this last month; I haven't hardly had time to sit, much less write. But here it is. On the whole not as funny, I think, as some of my other chapters, but certainly fluffier than most I've written yet. And now there's only two, maybe three chapters left (I'm not really sure yet), but I want to hurry because I want to do Christmas one-shots. Yeah! So. We'll see how well that goes! In the meantime, here is the long awaited second half of chapter seven (you may want to go back and read that one over again first, as they were originally meant to go together) and I will go get started on chapter nine (which, by the way, will probably be short. It's a filler chapter, to get me from here to where I want to go with this. Anyway…) Read and review!

Bit of a warning: this is an odd chapter in that the flow wasn't really what I wanted, so if it "sounds" weird, you're not the only one who thinks so. Just be aware that it might read a bit oddly. Okay. Read away!

**Chapter Eight: Valentine Venture**

"Time to get up Hermione!" Parvati's voice, pitched in just such a way that it would cut through her dreams with irritating precision, invaded Hermione's head and tore her from sleep.

"Nooooo," she moaned, wanting to cry. Not again… Every year she went through this…

"Come on, Hermione, get out of bed! It's a Hogsmeade weekend, and it's Valentine's Day-"

"I know that," she grumbled, eyes still closed, "and-"

"And," Lavender interrupted, "you're going with Ron-"

"And Harry and Ginny!" Hermione insisted.

"And you're going with Ron-" Parvati repeated as Hermione groaned. "So-"

"Don't you dare say it, Parvati. Don't-"

"-Of course that means that-"

"-say those words. Don't you dare say-"

"It's time for a make-over!"

"That." Hermione finished with a hopeless groan, then glared with one eye at her eager roommates. "No, absolutely not. It's just a trip to Hogsmeade with my friends-"

"One of whom you're in _love_ with," added Lavender, pretending to swoon at Parvati, who laughed.

"-there's nothing even slightly resembling a date, same as every other year-"

"Sure _looks_ like a double date," Parvati told Lavender in a stage whisper.

"-and I refuse to subject myself to that kind of torture for the sake of friendship."

"I thought the point was to move _beyond_ friendship?" Lavender whispered back. Parvati nodded sagely.

The one eyed glare resumed. "It's not going to happen," Hermione told them firmly. "It's" she looked at a clock, "only five-thirty? What are the two of you thinking? It is _far_ too early to be up, no matter what day it is. Besides," she continued, closing her eyes and grumbling into her pillow "a make-over? Honestly, what are we, pre-pubescent children at a slumber party? I think not." That said, she settled down to sleep again with a sigh.

"I think I'm insulted," Parvati said unhappily.

"Me too," replied Lavender, then, "hey, no going back to sleep!" She smacked the bulge that was Hermione's feet.

"Yeah, you have to get up!" Parvati agreed. "We have too much to do for you to be sleeping now." She climbed up on the bed and crawled over to Hermione's ear. "Hermione!" she called. "Hello! Hermiiiiione!"

Hermione, who really was almost asleep again, huffed unhappily and buried her face in her pillow.

"Yeah, because that's going to work. Come on Hermione, get up."

Hermione groaned, the sound muffled by the pillow under her face. "Why must the two of you persist in waking me up this way?" she cried, her voice losing all conviction to the simpering whininess of her tone. Even though she could not see her companions, she sensed the eye rolling. "And don't look at me that way!" she added indignantly, forgetting in her tired state, that she liked to be dignified.

Snickers echoed around her. She ignored them and snuggled deeper into her covers, what little of her face wasn't buried in her pillow was now covered to her hairline by the fluffiness of her down comforter.

"Come on, Hermione, we know you're awake, why don't you just get up already. You'll regret it if you don't."

"I think 'because I don't want to' is a very good reason," Hermione replied adamantly.

"If you think your wants and desires matter here at all, you're sorely mistaken."

"If you think I'm getting out of bed this early in the morning, _you're_ sorely mistaken."

"You've made up your mind then, have you?"

"Absolutely. Go 'way and come back in a few hours."

"Alright then."

"Just remember we warned you."

"Hmmph" Hermione replied, ignoring the faint murmuring of one of her roommate's voices and trying to get comfortable again. Unfortunately for her, her covers were suddenly whipped away, and a stream of cold water poured down over her head, soaking her blue sleeping-piggy pajama set (they come with a complimentary pair of piggy slippers!), her pillow, and bedding all. So surprised was she by the sudden change in temperature that she had only just realized that Parvati had spelled the water out of her wand when two pairs of hands grabbed her ankles, and physically yanked her from the bed. She landed rather hard on her backside with a thump that probably shook the ceiling of the room below, and, still in shock, found herself unable to move.

Hermione sat in stunned silence for several minutes as the cold of the morning seeped through the flimsy protection of her soaking flannel pajamas and set her limbs to shivering and her teeth to chattering. When her brain had finally registered that she was not only out of bed at an unreasonably early hour, even for a Hogsmeade Saturday, but that she was also wet, cold and in some slight pain, she shook her head slowly from side to side and focused her eyes on her roommates.

"The two of you are so dead."

The screaming which ensued _should_ have woken the rest of the Gryffindors, echoing as it did through the entirety of the Tower, except that Parvati and Lavender were very fast getting out of the room. Fast enough, in fact, to get all the way down to the common room and part way up the boys' stairwell on the other side (having nowhere else to go, really) by the time their roommate had caught up enough to be a danger to them (seeing as how she _was_ still a little groggy from sleep). So the screaming, which began the moment lagging Lavender caught sight of our infuriated, but still sopping, heroine, only actually woke those Gryffindors sleeping on the _boys'_ side of the tower.

Which meant, of course, all the boys.

If Hermione had stopped to think things through a little, she might not have thought her actions worth the consequences. But she was still somewhat disoriented by sleep, being one of those people who wakes slowly, and her recent exploits with Ginny had sadly made it easier for her to set dignity aside without a second thought. Thus we find her tearing madly up the stairs after her friends, yelling at the top of her lungs for them to face their punishment like men, and they yelling back, between high pitched screams even Hermione in her undignified state would never utter, that they were not men, and therefore not required to be at all courageous. Unfortunately for the three girls now invading male territory, this kind of noise tends to attract attention.

Completely oblivious to said attention, the three sleep rumpled, pajama clad, screaming girls continued their mad dash up the stairs until Hermione finally managed to catch hold of the least offensive, but slowest, of her roommates outside the door to one of the boys' rooms.

"Promise never to do it again!" cried the muggle-born girl, fingers moving mercilessly along the other's sensitive sides.

"I _will_ do it again! Next year!" was Lavender's adamant reply amidst gales of loud, high pitched laughter.

"Promise!" Hermione demanded, tickling even harder.

"I won't!"

"Promise!"

Lavender opened her mouth to answer, and perhaps would have succumbed to the relentless tickling force that was her rightly furious friend, but it was at this point that Seamus Finnigan opened the door on which the two were leaning and Hermione realized exactly _which_ door they had stopped in front of, and more importantly, who was behind it.

Lavender, meanwhile, had taken advantage of Hermione's lapse in attention and grabbed onto Seamus's arm. Gasping and laughing all the while, she desperately tried to explain to her boyfriend why he must protect her from their mutual friend, whom he had never seen looking more frightening.

"Seamus, if you don't stop her, she's going to _kill_ me!"

Hermione made an irrational grab at the finger Lavender thrust under her nose, and Lavender jerked it back with a shriek. "Seamus, if you get in my way, I'll kill you and _then_ I'll kill her," the young prefect growled, taking a menacing step forward.

Lavender shrieked again and clung tightly to the back of the bewildered Seamus's pajama shirt. "We warned you!" she cried, avoiding Hermione's attempts to catch hold of her. "We warned you what would happen if you didn't get up. But you didn't listen! You didn't listen, so it's your own-Ah!" She completely let go of her boyfriend as Hermione dropped all pretenses and flat out lunged for her. If Lavender's reflexes had been any slower she would have been caught, but she wasn't and Hermione, after having almost knocked Seamus over, found her fingers clutching at the empty air where Lavender's shirt had been just milliseconds ago. Said shirt, finding itself still free, much to the relief of its owner, then made a beeline for the boys' bathroom. The relative safety of the tiled floor having been attained, Lavender paused long enough to yell "It was your own fault!" before slamming the door shut with a loud slam, even as Hermione ran headlong into it.

Frustrated, the prefect growled and slammed both fists against the wood of the door. "Lavender!" she yelled, to vent her anger, and was only angered further by the muffled laughter coming from the other side.

"Umm…" a new sound behind her caused Hermione to whirl around and put her back defensively against the closed bathroom door. Unfortunately this put her face to face with the last person she ever wanted to see in her condition. Frozen in dismay, she took in the questioning sleepy blue eyes, and the messy-sticky-up hair, and felt the heat climbing her face at an alarming rate. Quickly jerking her gaze from Ron's, she felt her blush burn through her ears and up to the edge of her hair as her eyes met first Dean's, then Seamus's, then Neville's, and finally Harry's astonished gazes. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on whose point of view you look at it from), Harry's astonishment was mixed with a fair amount of amusement, and he was battling mightily with that now-familiar all-knowing smirk he'd been wearing far too often recently; the corners of his lips tugging up and then back down again rather violently.

"Hey, Hermione," he said finally with smug amusement, having correctly interpreted the look on her face. A moment later he lost the battle with the smirk. For a second she felt her embarrassment heighten, but then she mustered her courage…and narrowed her eyes.

"Do you have something to say, Potter?" she growled sharply, the world swinging back into focus through irritated lenses. The amusement remained in the depths of his gaze and one persistent corner of his mouth, but she was satisfied to see his eyes widen slightly, and his head shook slowly from side to side. "Good. Anybody else?" Her gaze traveled from one sleep rumpled male figure to the other, ignoring the fact that Ron looked especially good with his hair all messed up and his eyes all sleepy. Even as her gaze swung around to him, he ran his hand through his messy hair, making it stick up even more on one side, and sighed.

"I have a question," he told her firmly, cocking his head to the side and regarding her carefully. "What are the two of you-"

"Three."

Ron looked at Neville, who was now peering out the dorm room door and up the stairs. "What?"

"Three," Neville repeated, glancing back over his shoulder at his friend. "I think Parvati's up there somewhere." He jabbed his finger in the direction of the floor above them, where Jack Sloper and his roommates could be heard loudly discussing something, and being interrupted occasionally by a frantic voice of a much higher pitch.

Ron's gaze swung back to Hermione where it remained for a long moment (in which she became uncomfortably aware of her attire and the sad state of her hair) before he shook his head and tried again. "What are the _three_ of you doing that has managed to send the entire Gryffindor Tower into uproar?"

"Never mind that," yawned Dean, "what are you doing in the boys' dormitories? Couldn't you keep all your noise on your own side?"

Hermione glared at him, opened her mouth to reply, shut it, glared some more. "Shut up, Dean."

"Yes ma'am."

"And put on a shirt. I mean, honestly, no one wants to see you running around half naked. It's entirely inappropriate in present company."

"Well, if I'd _known_ we were going to be invaded by a bunch of screaming girls last night, I'd have worn one to bed, but as I'm not psychic…" Dean continued his grumbling all the way back to his bed, where he began rooting through his trunk in search of a shirt. Hermione simply rolled her eyes and just _happened_ to glance at the open doorway…in time to see Parvati come tiptoeing down the stairs.

"Par_vati_!" cried the dripping prefect in a scandalized voice.

"Eep!" gulped the roommate who had brought her to that state. There was a heartbeat in which nobody moved, and then Parvati was flying down the stairs, Hermione making as though to race after her, but realizing, too late, that this would leave the door to the bathroom unguarded, and before she could react Lavender was out the door and down the stairs as well. Hermione would have been close on her heels, but Harry had caught her in his arms, feet flying out from under her, and performed a quick drying spell. Then, shoving his wand in her hand, he murmured, his tone still amused, "whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad to get you on _this_ side of the tower looking like _that_. Make sure you don't break it," and he put her back on her feet.

"We don't even want to know, do we?" Ron asked in a tired voice.

"No," Hermione told him firmly, staring purposefully out the door. "And if the two of you love me at all, you'll pretend this never happened."

With that she was gone, and a sigh of relief echoed through the room. Having closed the door behind her, the sixth year boys all came to a silent agreement and climbed back into bed, ignoring the lingering uproar on the floors below and the distant screams that followed each hex shouted on the girls' stairway. But Ron and Harry exchanged a look, and then a grin, before tugging the curtains closed 'round their respective beds.

It was going to be a wonderful Valentine's Day.

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Some three hours after the events following her rude awakening that morning (one and a half of which had been spent cleaning up the mess they'd made, at a grumpy-and-even-more-rudely-awakened-McGonagall's insistence) Hermione exited the bathroom for the final time feeling fresh and make-over free. And also frustrated.

She had brushed her teeth. She had put on her best jeans and her favorite jumper (the green one that matched the flecks in her eyes). She had even put on a little make-up (no more than she normally wore, mind you. Hermione wasn't going to treat this day _that_ much differently, no matter how much she wanted to make up for her wild appearance that morning). With all of this, she was satisfied. But her hair, no matter what she did to it, refused to do anything but stand stubbornly around her head in a mass of unruly… _something_. It wasn't really curly, no certainly not; and it definitely wasn't straight either. It was just frizzy, and it was irritating. She wasn't trying to win a beauty contest or anything, but she had wanted to look nice; why, today of all days, had her hair decided to behave this way? Standing before the vanity mirror on the wall in her room, Hermione tried once more to gather her hair back into a ponytail, then growled in hopeless frustration as it refused to submit to her ministrations. Angrily, she yanked the hair tie from the few strands it had managed to retain and ruthlessly began to brush it out.

Obviously, this only made things worse. Hermione sighed.

_I give up_. And she picked up a can of mousse.

Sometimes muggle ways were the best ways.

Five minutes after _that_, Hermione, now curly haired (but no longer frizzy) finished pulling half of her hair back and fastened it in place with her favorite silver clip. It was the one the boys had bought her last year for Christmas and Hermione smiled, remembering thinking that it must have been Ginny's suggestion and being surprised when she'd found out they'd come up with it on their own. It had been a very thoughtful, and well-used, gift. Now, giving herself one last cursory glance in the mirror, she decided that she was at last acceptable, and walked out the door.

Only to come to a halt when Parvati called her back.

"Hermione, you ninny, you forgot this."

Hermione turned and accepted her warmest black cloak from Parvati. She started to thank the other girl, but stopped when she caught the look on her roommate's face.

"What?"

Parvati, tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. "You didn't let us make you over today, which is okay I guess, since you look really nice anyway-" and here the girl paused. "Speaking of, where did you get that jumper? I really like it; is it new?"

Hermione glanced down at the thickly ribbed green sweater she was wearing. "Relatively; I got it from my mum for Christmas. I have no idea where she bought it, but I can ask…"

Parvati shook her head dismissively. "No, I'll just borrow it from you later." She paused again and Hermione suppressed a smile. Parvati was so easily distracted by things like that sometimes. "Anyway," Parvati continued, "no matter what you say, I know you fancy Ron, and you're going to be spending the day with him. How you look today clearly matters to you, otherwise you'd be in another of your old sweatshirts and your favorite jeans rather than what you _are_ wearing." Hermione mentally admitted to the truth of this statement. "So I just wanted to let you know that even though you didn't let us," she gestured to Lavender and herself, "play with your face and hair, we still think you look very nice."

Hermione grinned at the grudging tone Parvati had adopted and shook her head. "Thanks girls. I'll see you later, okay?" She closed the door behind her and took the stairs down to the common room two at a time, her black snow boots clumping loudly at every step. Loudly enough, in fact, that she was surprised when Harry and Ron, who were sitting on a couch nearby, didn't seem to hear her coming. Then again, they did seem rather distracted. Curious, Hermione made an effort to walk more quietly and edged closer to her two best friends.

"What do you reckon they're talking about over there?" one asked the other.

"Dunno mate."

"We're supposed to leave in fifteen minutes."

"I know."

"…What are they doing over there anyway?"

"Harry, stop being such a prat. If you're so curious to know what they're saying, go over there and ask. Honestly. You haven't any reason to be jealous of Creevy. She's never given him a second glance."

"I know, Ron."

"Then stop being stupid."

"_Me_ stupid? What about you, huh?"

"I don't see what any of this has to do with me."

"No? Remember the time that you got all upset becau-"

"Good morning, Hermione."

"Yeah right, like I'm going to fall for tha-"

"Good morning, Ron," Hermione, who had been leaning on the back of their couch listening to their conversation now smiled and returned the greeting. Harry gaped at her for several seconds then frowned.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough, I suppose." She grinned wickedly. "Jealous, are you? That's rather unexpected, really Harry. And over someone as harmless as Colin. She's only talking to him-oh! She's talking to Colin!" And without another word she rushed off to join Ginny, leaving the two boys to wonder, for the several minutes it took for the three to complete their conversation, just what was going on. By the time the girls returned with Colin, Harry and Ron had fully resolved to ask.

"Wonderful," they heard Ginny say as the three came towards them.

"What's wonderful?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, what's going on?"

Hermione and Colin exchanged glances and made as if to answer when Ginny suddenly interrupted with a squeal. "We're going to miss the carriages! We've got to go!" And between the running down to the entrance hall and out the door after the last carriage to laughing over having to run after the carriage, neither boy remembered to ask the question they'd been meaning to ask until they got to Hogsmeade. By which point both girls were thinking they had entirely gotten away with it.

"Hey look," said Ginny, glancing out the window as the carriage drew to a stop, "we're here." She clambered out the door and threw a relieved look back up at Hermione getting out behind her, who echoed the look two fold. She bounced impatiently on the balls of their feet as they waited for the boys to get out, then set a quick pace down Main Street that even Harry was hard pressed to keep up with.

"Hey Gin," he panted unhappily, practically jogging to stay even with her, "do you think we could slow down a bit? Hogsmeade's not going anywhere."

"Yeah Ginny," agreed Ron snatching at his sister's arm and forcing her down to his preferred pace, "What's the rush?"

"No rush, I just want to look around. I love Hogsmeade." Ron and Harry stared at her, and Harry shook his head.

"Well, try to look a little more slowly; the rest of us don't really want to run all over town."

"But I want to hurry."

"Man, Gin, what's with you today?" Ron asked, looking at her curiously. "You've been running around like mad all morning. Speaking of," he added, countenance brightening, "what was going on back in the common room earlier?"

Hermione shot Ginny a 'way to go look' and cast around desperately for an answer. Just then, she spotted a large crowd gathered around a store front up ahead. She grinned and shook her head. "Nothing important," she answered Ron's question as vaguely as possible, then motioned to the crowd. "Hey, what's going on over there?"

Ron turned to look; frowned. "No idea."

Harry, who was also trying to see what was going on, narrowed his eyes suddenly. "If I'm not mistaken, there are broomsticks over there."

"So there are," agreed Ron. "Quidditch?"

"Something like," answered Harry. "Shall we go see?"

"Oh, let's," answered Ginny in such a tone that Ron looked at her sharply, suspicion in his eyes. She smiled at him innocently, and the blue eyes narrowed, but Harry's impatience, and his own, soon had him hurrying down the street, Hermione and Ginny exchanging smug grins behind their backs as they trailed behind.

Upon arrival at the table around which the crowd was gathered, both boys' eyes widened. There, signing autographs and shaking hands, was England's Quidditch team. And there, above their heads was a banner that read "Happy Valentine's Day Harry and Ron" in bold red letters, with little gold fireworks going off above the words every few seconds. And finally, on the table, were two large boxes, one blue and one green, with their names on them. Harry and Ron could do nothing but stare as Ginny and Hermione, now looking rather amused, guided the two stunned boys through the crowd to the edge of the table, oblivious in their shock even to the irritating flash of Colin's camera as it went off several times.

Grinning, Ginny motioned to Harry and Ron. "Well England, here they are."

Harry and Ron turned wide-eyed to look at her, and then at Hermione, both of whom were grinning madly. "Y-You did this?" Harry pointed in the general direction of the table and all its inhabitants. Ginny just kept grinning, but Hermione nodded.

"We thought you might like it."

The seven men behind the table had been watching this exchange, and now the tall brunette fellow sitting directly in front of them stood up and smiled broadly. "Hello boys," he offered his hand first to Ron and then to Harry. "I'm-"

"Mark Springfield."

"Huh?" he looked back at Ron, who was still staring at him, round eyed.

"You're Mark Springfield, Chaser and Captain for England."

"Uh," the man laughed lightly and scratched his head, "well yeah."

Coming suddenly to life, Ron dropped his palms to the table top and leaned forward, his face animated. "I saw you play that scrimmage game against Ireland this past summer. You were brilliant!"

"Thanks!"

"Hey, don't go hogging all the glory here, Marco," one of his teammate's laughed, "your not much good all by yourself. We play those games too you know." Springfield grinned sheepishly.

"I'm sorry," Ron stated quickly, flushing, "I didn't mean-"

"Hey don't worry about it." He stuck out his hand. "William Bennett, Seeker." Ron and Harry shook his hand, then another, and another, until they'd met the whole team. Moments later talk turned to Quidditch. Satisfied, Ginny and Hermione turned to Colin.

"Well?" Ginny asked, grinning at him.

"I don't know. I think they like it," he replied. Hermione grinned too.

"I don't know what gave you that idea. Are the pictures going look nice?"

Colin looked mildly affronted. "One of _my_ pictures? Not look nice? How _dare_ you ask me that?" he sniffed.

"Oh!" Ginny cried, "Poor Colin," and went to give him an apologetic hug when he suddenly pushed her out of the way.

"What a great shot!"

Ginny shook her head, ignoring the intense flashing of Colin's camera, and leaned towards Hermione. "I think we lost him. He's all wrapped up in his little photographic world of lighting and framing and perfect angles." She sighed mournfully.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course he is. That's what we brought him for."

Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but Springfield's voice, pitched now so that it would carry, interrupted her.

"Well guys, we'd better wrap this up. We've only got another hour or so, and to be fair we should really sign autographs for some of our other fans as well. But it was really nice to me you," there were hand shakes all around, then, just as they were leaving, "Oi, don't forget these!" The keeper held out the blue and the green boxes, and Colin snapped more pictures as Ron and Harry accepted them. Several minutes later Ginny and Hermione gently intervened in the conversation that was just getting heated between the three.

"No! Left? Really? And that works for you?"

"Well, no one's scored on it yet."

"Wow. That's a gutsy move. I've never heard of anyone pulling left…"

"That's because Ron's insane."

"You'd have to be though," there was a definite note of admiration there that made Ron blush.

Hermione grinned, hating to break it up, but really, others were waiting…"Okay, that's enough. Come on, Ron, we have to let them talk to _other_ people now."

Ginny took Harry's hand and grinned up at him. "Come on Mr. Captain. You don't need anymore crazy strategies in that head of yours. We have to get up too early as it is."

"That's the truth." Ron shot Harry a disapproving glare that made the English team members laugh. Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled at Mark Springfield.

"Thanks, Mark."

"Hey, no problem, Hermione. We were in town anyway, why not take pictures and sign autographs too?" He grinned. She smiled, waved, and turned to leave, and came face to face with the scowling expression of Ron Weasley. She looked up at him questioningly as they fell in behind Harry and Ginny.

"What?"

"Mark? Mark? You two are on a first name basis?"

"Generally speaking, Ron, the use of the first name in addressing a person is an acceptable practice, as long as the first name you are using does in fact belong to the person you are addressing."

"First it was Krum, now it's Springfield. What's next, Puddlemere's key Chaser? I swear, Hermione, you're out to snag a player for every position. Planning on a team for yourself, are you?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake! I never had a bit of interest in Krum. Not then, and certainly not now. Nor do I want Springfield. I scarcely know him. Honestly, Ronald!" Ron's only response was to look mutinous. But they walked along peacefully enough until he finally mumbled an apology, which she gracefully accepted, wondering all the while why he always got so jealous. Wishful thinking said he fancied her, but he'd been doing this since fourth year. Even if he did miraculously feel the same way about her as she did him, logic said he would have said or done something about it before now if that had been the reason behind his jealousy in fourth year. Logic also said that Hermione should have followed this same logic, as she had fancied Ron since _third_ year, but she logically dismissed this thought by reminding herself that she was a girl and therefore exempt. Which really wasn't logical at all.

Frustrated with the train of her thoughts, Hermione turned her attention outward, and found herself staring thoughtfully, almost enviously at her red haired friend, even now walking hand in hand with Harry and looking gorgeous as always. Not for the first time she wondered how she did it.

"How does who do what?" Ron asked. Hermione blinked. She hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud.

"Ginny. How does she manage to look so beautiful everyday? She makes it look so effortless. She doesn't even try!" Ron gave her a funny look, like she'd asked a stupid question and he couldn't figure out why. She bristled, bracing herself for a sharp comment from the last person she wanted to hear it from, and was totally deflated by his answer.

"The same way you do I suppose." She frowned, completely thrown by his unexpected answer, and spent several seconds trying to puzzle through what he meant. In the end she discarded the obvious answer and came up short.

"What?" she finally asked.

"What what?" he replied.

"What did you mean by that? I don't understand." He gave her another one of those looks.

"I said, she probably does it the same way you do." Hermione's brow furrowed, and she shook her head, baffled. Ron frowned at her.

"Look, I know for a fact that, unlike your roommates, you don't get up and spend three hours in front of a mirror every morning. Why is that?" she opened her mouth to tell him it was because she valued sleep more than looks, but he didn't give her time to answer. "Because you don't need it. You're beautiful all on your own. My sister's the same way. Why should a naturally beautiful girl spend hours in front of a mirror covering her face in layers of unnecessary makeup? She may not be as smart as you Hermione, but she's smart enough to know she doesn't need that junk." He paused and frowned. "Aren't you coming?" For Hermione had stopped in her tracks, mouth hanging open, gaping at him. If she wasn't mistaken, Ron had just called her beautiful, then turned around and implied that she thought his sister wasn't smart enough to know that she was beautiful too. But he had called her beautiful. At least she thought he had. And he acted as if it were common knowledge. Hermione mentally floundered in the tide of emotions this provoked, trying to come to terms with what had just happened, and so completely missed Ron's question.

"Hermione?"

She wasn't beautiful. Cute, maybe, but beautiful? That was Ginny, Lavender, Parvati, not Hermione. The best she could come up with was that he was teasing her, mocking her insecurity, and she blinked back the tears suddenly threatening to fall.

"Hello! Hermione!" Ron's voice finally broke through the well of hurt and anger rising up within her. Why now? Why today? Why at all? She had never really hoped that Ron might like her, but to find out in this way that he thought so little of her as to blatantly mock her, in public, on Valentine's Day, was just too much.

"Why Ron?"

"What?" He was confused, it was written all over his face. She suddenly couldn't look at him and dropped her gaze to the ground.

"_Why?_" she repeated, her wavering voice barely audible.

"Why what? What did I do?" He was completely baffled.

"Why are you mocking me?" her voice was stronger now, angry.

"Hermione, what-?" he stopped himself and cocked his head at her. He'd said something to offend her, he just couldn't figure out what. He also didn't understand why she wasn't yelling at him like she normally did when she was angry with him. Instead, her voice was soft, her shoulders hunched, and she wouldn't even look at him. She sniffed then, and he frowned. Was she-?

"Hermione." He reached out and gently took hold of her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. He felt wetness on his fingers, and shook his head as he saw the tears falling slowly from her eyes. "You _are_ crying." He said it softly, concerned. "Why? What did I say?"

"You-you said." She stopped, tried again. "you said," she shook her head, "and- and you implied I thought I was smarter than Ginny be-because I don't wear makeup, and you said-" she stopped again. "Ron, I don't wear makeup because, because I don't really know how, and-and I don't get up early because I like to sleep in as late as possible and-you-and." She took a deep breath, trying to control the tears. "You make it sound like I do it all by design. But I don't! I don't even know why you would say such a thing. I don't understand why you would say it. I just like to sleep," she insisted, so distressed that she was babbling. It was a rare moment, but Ron was too concerned to enjoy it. What in the world was going on?

"Lucky for the rest of us, then, that you like your sleep so much or none of us would get to see your pretty face. But Hermione, I'm still not understanding what's wrong." He frowned. Hermione was shaking her head rather violently, and waving an accusatory finger in his direction.

"There!" she said. "You've done it again. _Why_ are you mocking me?" He was completely lost. This whole conversation had him more confused than Snape's latest advanced formula essay, and he had completely lost his metaphorical footing. That was never a good thing when conversing with Hermione, but a near hysterical Hermione… He wanted to help her, but he couldn't even figure out what the conversation was about. He tried to ask her again.

"_Mocking_ you?" He took a step forward, then stopped when she backed away several paces, shaking her head again. "Hermione, what in the world? I don't-" he stopped, staring at her as he reviewed the conversation in his mind. All he had said was that she was beautiful and- he froze. Had he said that? That seemed to have been when Hermione lost her mind as well; and she thought he was mocking her? She didn't think-

Hermione watched as realization dawned on his face, and flinched as his understanding eyes settled on hers. She couldn't hold his gaze. This was it-he'd figured it out and now he would tell her he didn't like her at all, and that if she so much as looked at him they wouldn't be able to be friends anym-

"You have no idea, do you?" His voice startled her from her self-induced panic and she looked at him with startled eyes. That hadn't been at all what she expected. He took a step nearer, and then another, and in her confusion she let him. There was something odd in his eyes that made her heart leap, and, frowning, she squashed the feeling with a very large mental heel. It was then she realized he was standing right in front of her. He shook his head. "You have absolutely no idea." She stared at him, mystified, unable to fathom what it was she had no idea about when he reached out slowly with both hands and framed her face between them. Despite her bewilderment, her eyes widened at his actions and he smiled a gentle smile at her. He tenderly wiped a fresh tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb, and his smile grew as he regarded her. "Hermione." His deep voice was nearly a whisper he spoke so softly, and there was something in his tone, like the look in his eyes… There was such, tenderness? caring? concern? in his expression, and it held her in place far more effectively than the gently restraining hands on her face; held her in place so firmly that she could hardly breathe. "You're beautiful."

Her eyes widened even farther, if that was possible. "Wha-what?" her breath caught on the word as something warm rushed through her.

"You're beautiful, Hermione," he repeated earnestly.

The warmth congregated somewhere in the center of her chest and pooled behind her eyes. "Ron." She reached past his fingers and dashed her tears away with a fiercely wielded fist. "Do you mean that?" His smile was all the reassurance she needed. She was standing in the middle of the sidewalk with disheveled hair, a runny nose, and eyes puffy and red from crying, and she had never felt more beautiful in all her life. No one could stand under a look like the one Ron was giving her and feel even remotely ugly. It was impossible. Still swiping at tears, she offered him a wavering smile. He leaned forward in response, and she felt warm lips brush her forehead. She might have stiffened with shock at this, but she wasn't given the opportunity. He had scarcely pulled away before he took her hand in his, wiped away the last traces of her tears with his free hand, and tugged her gently forward.

"Come on," he told her, "Ginny and Harry will be waiting for us at the Three Broomsticks. If we don't get over there pretty soon, they're going to wonder what happened to us."

SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS

"Here we are." Harry put four large mugs of warm butterbeer down on the table and slid back into his place in the half crescent booth beside Ginny.

"Mmm, yummy," mumbled Hermione, taking a sip of hers.

"So are the two of you even going to tell us how you managed all of that?"

Ginny glanced sideways at her boyfriend and grinned. "Magic." Hermione laughed, but the boys just rolled their eyes.

"Cute," said Ron, "but seriously, how'd you do it?"

Hermione, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and feeling rather unsure of how to behave around Ron just then, still managed a tiny smile. "Girl's Day."

"Girl's Day?" Ron echoed.

"That explains a lot," muttered Harry under his breath, and Ron laughed.

"I suppose," the red-head stated wryly "that the two of you just waltzed into their hotel room one night and said, 'will you do this for our friends?' and they just fell all over themselves trying to help, right?"

"Something like that." Ginny smirked.

"What?" Ron and Harry stared at her, wide-eyed.

"Well, not the fall all over themselves bit. In fact they were rather unhappy with us at first, but after a few hours of calm discussion and gentle persuasion, they came to see it our way, and agreed to spend part of their day off doing autographs and photos with you. And since they can't devote all that time in public to only two of their fans, they're seeing the rest of their loving public today too."

Ron's eyes narrowed at his sister. "You didn't blackmail them or anything did you?"

"No!"

"Oh, Ron, honestly. We just asked," Hermione told him.

"And begged. And explained. And begged some more. And-"

"Ginny they don't need to know all that."

Ginny stopped. "Oh. Right…Hey, open your boxes."

"Yes, please do."

Ron eyed Ginny carefully. "What's in them?"

"Their contents! Now open, open, open!" exclaimed Ginny, too excited to even drink her butterbeer. Harry grinned at her enthusiasm, kissed her cheek, and acquiesced.

"All right, all right already. We'll open the boxes. Just quit bouncing quite so much." Ginny just rolled her eyes and shoved his box at him.

Warily, but not unhappily, the boys lifted the lids of their respective boxes and began to dig through them.

Tissue paper went flying.

"Hey look a pennant!"

"A book? Hermione you got me a book?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's all about the history of the team you prat. Open the front cover."

"Autographs!"

"Action figures!"

"What? Do _I_ have action figures?" More tissue paper flew through the air.

Now Ginny rolled her eyes, though she was grinning. "Boys and their dolls." Their was a gasp of indignation as Harry and Ron froze, Harry clutching the last two members of his action figure set in his hands, Ron clutching tissue paper in hopes of finding a set of his own, both glaring at the cheeky red-head.

"They're not _dolls_, Ginny. They're _action figures_." Ron's voice was scandalized.

"Barbies are dolls. There's not really much difference is there?" Hermione lifted one of the figures from the table where it had been looking around for his broom, which he had dropped somewhere, and studied him closely.

"What?" Ron looked confused, but then so did Ginny. Harry, on the other hand, looked incredulous.

"How can you compare _Quidditch_ players to _Barbies_!" He was glaring at her now.

"I'm just saying there's not much difference, that's all." She held the figure up by his jersey and turned him about. "Smaller, true, but still just a-"

"Don't!" Harry snatched the figure back. "Don't say it." And the figure was put gently down on the table top next to his missing broom, which he immediately picked up and hugged fiercely to his chest.

"That can't be comfortable," Ginny stated, leaning down to look at the broom-hugging action figure. "I mean, brooms aren't exactly cuddly."

"Yes!" shouted Ron before Hermione could answer. She grinned at Ginny and turned to see duplicates of the English Quidditch team now marching across the table, bumping into mugs, bottles, paper, boxes and each other, all unheeded by their easily distracted new owners, who were hunting through their boxes again.

"Socks?"

"Socks! Hey, and a jersey!"

"Cool a jersey!"

"Great! More clothes for me to steal!"

Ron glared at his sister. "Don't even think about it." She grinned, then ducked as Harry's elbow almost decapitated her.

"What's this?" asked the green-eyed boy, still waving the object that had almost killed his girlfriend around in the air.

"It's a picture frame, Harry, not a saber, so put it down, will you please?"

"Why do we have picture frames of I owe you slips?"

"Yeah," echoed Harry. "Why do we?"

"Because pictures aren't developed before they're taken, and those boxes were packed last night," answered Ginny.

"Pictures? Of what?"

"Of just now!" she replied, "What did you think Colin was doing with the camera and the blinding flashes? Imitating a strobe light?"

Ron spluttered for a moment, was unable to think up anything appropriate to say, and settled for a glare. Then he looked confused. Then he somehow managed both. "What's a strobe light? And how do you know what one is if I don't?"

"It's a light muggles have that flash on and off, and because I told her. The point," said Hermione, glaring at Ginny for glaring at Ron for glaring at her, "is that there will be pictures coming soon. The I owe yous are simply to remind us that we need to give them to you once they get developed."

"Oh," said Ron.

"Great," said Harry. Then he hugged Ginny and gave her a light kiss. "Thank you." Ginny grinned in response, but Hermione missed it because Ron was suddenly giving her a hug too, one of his I'm-exuberant-and-am-trying-to-find-an-outlet-for-my-abounding-joy-right-now bear hugs.

"Thanks 'Mione!" he shouted in her ear. She found herself blushing despite the pain and grinned foolishly up at him.

"You're welcome, Ron. Now let me go. I can't breathe properly." Immediately he released her.

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"Um…I think we should put the action figures back in the boxes." Hermione followed Ginny's gaze to the figures in question and started to laugh. Like the figure of Krum Ron had bought back in fourth year, these were not animated to fly, despite the fact that they had been given broomsticks. Now all fourteen of them, mounted on their brooms, were sporadically pushing off the table and leaping into the air, only to fall back to the tabletop in flightless despair. It was pathetic, and also quite amusing.

"Oh, poor little buggers." With uncharacteristic empathy, Ron swept his figurines back into his box, along with all his other gifts. "Wanting to fly and not being able to. That's the worst."

"The worst is it?" Hermione asked, shooting an amused glance at Ginny, who grinned.

"Absolutely mate," muttered Harry, "completely agree." And his own belongings were back in his box as well. "You know," he added thoughtfully, replacing the box's lid setting it aside. "The girls are always buying us Quidditch things. Birthdays, Christmas, even Valentine's Day, they always buy us something to do with Quidditch."

"'S'true," said Ron around a mouthful of Pumpkin Pasty. He swallowed, and frowned. "I wonder what that says about us?"

Harry looked blank for a moment, then shook his head. "That's not the point. They have a failsafe, Ron. No matter what, they know what to get us. Shopping for gifts is easy for them. What I'm saying is that this is completely unfair."

"You've got a point."

"Who's got a point?" said another voice.

"Seamus, Lavender." Harry nodded to each.

"Scoot over, mate, and let us in." They did so and Seamus looked around the table, hand resting comfortably in Lavender's. "Now, who's got a point?"

"Harry was just saying that we girls have an advantage over you Quidditch loving boys," Hermione, smiling wryly, waved a finger around to indicate the males at their table, "because we can buy Quidditch supplies on all gift-giving occasions, and you have no such failsafe. He was about to enlighten us as to why this is 'completely unfair.'"

Ginny snorted into her napkin at Hermione's lightly mocking tone, and Lavender giggled softly. Seamus shot her a penetrating look, then nodded at Harry.

"All right then. I agree with you so far, let's hear the rest of it."

"Well look at the evidence. For my birthday this last summer, I received exactly one Puddlemere poster and a bag of flying chocolate snitches from Ginny, and a new jar of broom handle wax, three colored quills with logoed stems and a Quidditch patterned stationary kit from Hermione."

"My intention was that you should write me, Harry. But you were too thick to catch the subtle message behind my gift." Hermione's eyes rolled skyward then glanced at Ginny. "Dense as a rock that one, it's no wonder you have to hit him over the head with one to get things through to him."

"Hello? I'm still here, and I can hear you." He cleared his throat, purposefully ignoring Hermione's half amused half patronizing look, and continued. "For Christmas, I received much of the same. It's not that I minded, I love Quidditch and am not implying that such gifts should cease to appear at any and every opportunity," here he shot a meaningful glance at his friend and girlfriend, "but the question must be asked…How long did you spend shopping for our gifts?"

Ginny giggled lightly. "Actually some of it took awhile, but on the whole, deciding what to get you is always easy. It's finding it that causes problems."

"You see?" said Harry with some frustration. "Now Ron, how long did you spend buying Hermione and Ginny's gifts?"

"Er…which ones? Christmas? Birthday?"

"Pick one."

"I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? It was a long time for both. Days probably, looking through shelves, trying to figure out what would be just right…" He stopped and flushed slightly as everyone was still looking at him. Hermione was relieved, and slightly puzzled, to see _Ron_ get the smug-all-knowing look from Harry but was distracted when he spoke again.

"Exactly. It's the same for me."

"And me," added Seamus.

"You see. You girls have it easy. Just go into any Quidditch Supplies store and buy something. _We_ have to _browse_ for _days_. It's completely unfair I tell you."

"Well, look at it this way," said Lavender sweetly, "while we like our gifts just fine, what we really appreciate about them is that you made the effort to 'browse for days' just to find us the perfect gift. That's the part that makes them so special." With that, she leaned over to kiss Seamus's cheek with a tiny little smile. Hermione had to suppress the urge to wrinkle her nose at the saccharine sweetness of it all. Lavender was her good friend, but sometimes she really was all sugar and lace; moments like that were why she and Lavender did not spend a lot of time together outside their room, at least not when Parvati wasn't around to act as ballast. Still, she let it go with a sigh, because it was Valentine's Day and that sort of thing was supposed to be acceptable on days like this. With that, she tuned back in to the conversation, just in time to hear Ron say-

"Soooo…if I just spent a lot of time shopping, it wouldn't matter what the gift was?"

Hermione shook her head emphatically. "No Ron, you will not get away with buying me socks just because you spent days looking for the perfect pair," she told him dryly.

"But you bought _me_ socks!"

"They're _Quidditch_ socks!"

"You see!" Harry flung an arm and pointing finger out over the table in her direction. "Do you see what I mean? _Completely_ unfair."

_Boys._ Hermione rolled her eyes. "We all see, Potter, now put your arm down before you spill my butterbeer."

"What is going on over here?" Parvati, Jack Sloper, and Dean wandered over from the bar across the room, Parvati mock glaring at the whole group. "You're all being very loud and disruptive." Her eyes locked with Hermione's, and she shook her head in sad disappointment. "Hermione, I would never have thought it of _you_."

Hermione thought briefly of thinking up a smart mouth comeback, decided her brain was too hazy with contentment, and stuck out her tongue instead. Parvati's response was to laugh and plop down on Ron's far side, dragging her boyfriend and Dean in with her. Suddenly the crescent shaped booth, which had seemed so excessively large with four people in it, now seemed excessively small with nine. Squished between Ginny and Ron, Hermione hadn't hardly any room to lift her butterbeer.

Apparently neither had Ron.

"Ouch, Ron," Hermione cried loudly a few minutes later when the red-head accidentally jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow.

"Sorry 'Mione," he apologized, and put his arm around the top of the booth seat behind her head. "Better?"

'_Better?' he asks. Now I'm squished against his side instead of his shoulder, and his arm is behind me, and I'm feeling rather embarrassed, and he asks me if I'm better? Floor, swallow me now. Only don't because I don't know when I'll have a chance like this again._

Trying to control her blush, she nodded, and he went back to discussing the finer points of getting away with sabotaging Slytherin potions with Snape. Meanwhile she was trying to forget his arm was behind her while simultaneously keeping her head away from his arm, ignoring Ginny's amused glances (coming in two to five minute intervals) and pretending not to see the infuriating all-knowing smug little smirk that she was really beginning to hate on the face of one Harry Potter. Very deliberately she involved herself in the conversation going between Ginny and Lavender. Several minutes into it she still couldn't make out the subject, but that didn't matter so long as she distracted herself.

Especially when Ron started playing with her hair. It startled her almost enough to make her jump when she first felt him lift a curl between his fingers, and she glanced sideways at him in shock, but he remained oblivious to her surprise, still twisting strands of her hair around his fingers absently as he talked. So she let it go. It wasn't like she minded after all.

Blushing a little, but pretending she wasn't, she studiously read the label of her refill butterbeer and tried very hard not to notice his hand in her hair. After several more minutes, with her face still tinged pink and her neck muscles protesting the odd angle at which she held her head to keep it away from Ron's arm, she finally gave up. With a sigh of mixed regret, relief, and embarrassment, Hermione relaxed back into her seat, her head resting lightly against the crook of Ron's arm. From the corner of her eye, she saw him glance at her in surprise, but she simply looked straight ahead and made another comment to Ginny and Lavender. He waited a heartbeat, then smiled, an expression so brief she thought she might have imagined it except that Harry's smirk broadened.

She ignored him too.

Some time later, when she was finally beginning to relax and feel comfortable, Harry decided it was time to leave. She regretted it at first, having to distance herself from Ron and leave the intimate atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks, but no sooner had Ron stood up behind her than his hand was at her back, guiding her through the room and out the door with a gentle pressure. She sighed when they left the warmth of popular hangout and he moved away, but allowed herself to think his hand had lingered just a little longer than necessary.

They wandered around Hogsmeade another hour or so, then Harry and Ginny left to do their own private Valentine's celebration.

"We'll see you two later," Harry said, giving Hermione a swift hug goodbye, then taking Ginny's hand and lightly punching Ron's shoulder. "Ron, give her the box."

"But you-"

"I get to give Ginny a present. Give Hermione hers. She can thank me later." He guided Ginny away from their friends, back towards Honeydukes.

"Remember you've only got an hour!" Hermione called after them. Ginny flashed her a grin.

"We'll meet you then at the carriages," she called back, and Hermione and Ron were alone.

Ron took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. "Hermione, I know you told us not to do anything fancy for Valentine's Day because you and Ginny wanted to treat us this year, but Harry I and…well, we decided we still wanted to do something special. After all, you're our best friend. So I came up with this idea, and Harry pitched in a few additions and…Oh, here." He pulled a small box from his pocket and thrust it at her.

She smiled. He seemed nervous. She supposed it was because he actually came up with the idea, and Harry simply helped modify it, so all the "blame" would lie with Ron. Clearly, they had put a lot of thought into this gift; it was no pair of socks she was getting here. Unbidden, tears came to her eyes as her heart filled with love and appreciation for this boy and the other, and without even taking the box she stepped forward and flung her arms around his neck.

"Thank you, Ron," she said in a watery voice.

"Er.. You're welcome," she could practically feel his blush, "but it's not just from me, and you haven't even opened it yet. You may not even like it."

She pulled back and smiled up at him. "I like it. Whatever it is, I like it."

Now he seemed amused. "At least open the box, Hermione," he told her.

So she did, gently removing paper in her careful, meticulous, non-ripping way that soon had Ron bouncing on the balls of his feet with impatience.

"For heaven's sake, Hermione, the paper's not the present, it's all right to rip it."

"Hush, Ron," she replied, the last of the paper coming away in her hands. She raised the lid and peered inside. "Oh, Ron!" she whispered, staring.

"You like it?"

"Very much." She lifted the ring from its bed of cotton and slid it on the second finger of her right hand. "It's beautiful."

And it was. The ring was silver in color, two plain slender bands twisted together around her finger. What made it special, though, was the design on top. The metal there had been fashioned into an intricate little knot, the center of which contained a tiny red stone and a matching green one. They were glowing very softly from within their silver cage, so that whichever way she turned her hand, glints of red and green light escaped through the cracks.

"You were so worried about us after fifth year that we've been trying for awhile now to come up with some way that you can be sure that we're all right, even when we're not around, and we finally came up with this. So long as the stones are glowing, we're fine; the red one's me, and the green's Harry." He paused. "I know they're Christmas colors, but Harry didn't think you'd mind. Said it was perfect because you thought of us this way anyway, whatever that means." He looked at her curiously. She smiled.

"Red hair, green eyes. The first things that come to mind when I think of the two of you."

"Ah. Well, anyway, if you say this little spell here," he pulled a tiny piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to her, "the glow goes out, you know, for all our midnight adventures. And then if you say that second one, it turns on again. So now you don't have to worry about us so much, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Ron."

"You already said that."

"I know, but I mean it."

He shook his head. "Come on, it's about time to head back and I want to pick up another butterbeer before we go." Hermione nodded absently, and followed where he lead, but her mind was on other things, admiring her ring and thinking how lucky she was to have two such amazing friends, so that she hardly noticed that she had gotten into a carriage and ridden back to school until Ron told her it was time to get out. He was standing in the doorway when she came to awareness, looking up at her alone in the carriage, grinning madly.

"Come on, Hermione," he repeated. "You can't stay in the carriage, you have to get out." She blushed for what had to be the fifth or sixth time that day (_Really this is getting ridiculous!_) and accepted his hand out of the vehicle. She shot Harry and Ginny a glare because they were laughing at her, then reconsidered and launched herself at Harry. He had to take a step back to keep his balance against her weight and momentum, and it took him several seconds to make out her words.

"Thank you Harry, you're the best friend a girl could have."

"Because I laughed at you?"

"She means for the ring, mate," Ron informed him. "We seem to have found the right gift."

"She went mad like this when you gave it to her?" Ron nodded. "Huh."

Hermione pulled away. "I am not mad, just grateful," she sniffed, then took Ginny's arm and pulled her into the castle, already whispering back and forth.

Behind them Ron and Harry just shook their heads and grinned. After all, how's a boy supposed to compete with a roomful of girls and stories about Valentine's Day?

A wise man knows when he's beat.

Harry and Ron went up to dinner.

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On the Monday after Valentine's Day, Snape's fifth year Gryffindor/Slytherin Potions class experienced a bit of an accident. One easily intimidated Gryffindor boy, at his wits end after half an hour of Snape's loudly critical hovering, finally slipped and added the wrong ingredient. A usually mild ingredient that they commonly used in class but was only supposed to be used in small doses today because mixed with another of the day's ingredients the usually mild substance became highly explosive. So this usually mild, but today highly explosive, ingredient was added to the potion in great quantities in the same instant that Snape just happened to be peering into the cauldron to check, and criticize, the color.

The Gryffindor half of Ginny's class ended up with 100 points docked from their house and a three foot essay as punishment for the stupidity of their classmate (who, in addition to the points and the essay, also received five detentions), all of which was yelled at them by a steaming, boiling, badly burnt Snape just before he ran for the infirmary.

Harry, of course, was recruited to help Ginny with her essay, which was due exactly two days later (a truly unreasonable amount of time), and that was why they were sitting in the common room working at two in the morning on Tuesday night when everyone else was asleep. Working, that is, until a thought suddenly came to Ginny, and she looked up from the essay she had worked two days to finish in time.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"Did you know Hermione used your cloak to get us into Hogsmeade on Girl's Day?" He looked up from his essay for Professor Binns (which he had put off doing until now to help Ginny), frowning thoughtfully.

"I figured she must have. There's no other way to get through the halls without getting caught, really. Besides, I knew she had the cloak that day. No sense in her not using it."

"You _knew_ she had the cloak?"

"Well, yeah."

"How'd she get it?" she asked eagerly. "How'd she get it, do you know that?" Harry gave her an odd look, as if she were a little mad and he didn't know quite what to do with her.

"She got it the same way she always does." Ginny growled in frustration.

"_How_, Harry?" He looked completely bewildered now, but he answered anyway, picking up his quill as he did so.

"Ginny," he paused, carefully dipping his quill into his ink well and tapping it on the edge to remove excess ink, "she just asked."

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So did I do good? Tell me tell me! I love reviews and e-mails! Oh, by the way, a quick thanks to Pudadingding, who reviewed and gave me a few grammatical suggestions. I greatly appreciate that, if you're reading this, and I tried to take your advice in this chapter. Well, that's all I have to say, other than check my bio for updates on updates, and I'll "see" you all in the next chapter!


	9. Poor Prefect

**Seasonal Suffering**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter, except for one copy of each of the three movies and one copy of each of the five books (My roommate, on the other hand, has everything from cardboard cutouts, to movie theater posters, to kites, to games and legos and bedding and clothes). Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling, and the WB Movie people (and everyone else who owns bits of HP that I'm missing-that's Harry Potter, not Hit Points).

Notes: "I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!" I hope you all did have a merry Christmas, though I'm a little late to be wishing such. Still, it's the thought that counts, right? So! My dearest beloved and faithful readers! I have been amiss in my authorial duties once again (Can we say, craziest semester of my life? And straight A's? Sorry guys and dolls, straight A's=little writing time). This chapter's rather short, as I warned it would be, partially because it's fairly plotless, though not pointless, as without it chapter ten would be mysteriously disconnected from the rest of the story. Silly though it is, this chapter is vital to the plot. Read and enjoy, and then review!

**Chapter Nine: Poor Prefect**

It was breakfast time at Hogwarts and Hermione was already in a bad mood. Worse, she was downright incensed.

First, she had woken up at five this morning, after staying up late to study the night before. Then she was unable to fall asleep because of the raging headache she'd had yesterday that had apparently decided to stick around an extra day, so now she had a migraine and was running on three and a half hours of sleep. That alone was irritating (and painful) enough, but on top of that, something had gone wrong with the hot water charm in their bathroom and she'd been forced to take a cold shower (migraine + ice cold water = major pain) so that now her head was literally throbbing.

After her icy shower, her favorite skirt (the longest one; sometimes she felt so indecent wearing school uniforms, regardless of the fact that they wore robes over them) had split a seam when she tried to zip it up (she wasn't even allowing herself to think about the implications of _that!_) so she had defiantly put on jeans under her school robes instead and rolled up the bottoms so no one could tell. Then, after studying for the extra hour and a half her early waking had given her, she'd lifted her bookbag and somehow managed to knock over her inkwell with it, accidentally spilling her practical blue ink (none of that shimmery pink stuff for Hermione, thank you!) all across the Transfiguration essay that was due today, and that she hadn't time to rewrite before class. Just thinking about it made her scowl; why couldn't that have happened at the _beginning_ of her study time, then she would have rewritten it with time to spare.

As if that wasn't enough, she'd tripped on the hem of her robe after climbing out of the portrait hole, and Ron and Harry had laughed hysterically like it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen. She'd been so surprised and hurt by their reaction (pride is always more easily damaged on a bad day) that she hadn't even bothered to stand. If Colin hadn't come through a few seconds later and offered her a hand up, she'd probably _still_ be sitting on the floor in the corridor outside Gryffindor tower. _Bless you Colin Creevey_. Finally, the icing on the cake, her socks were mismatched, and of course five people so far had noticed and pointed it out to her, every one of them giggling behind their hands.

_That's right, go ahead and laugh. Hermione isn't perfectly dressed; she has mismatched socks. I hope you all choke on your toast. _

She took a bite of her own toast, and glowered into her cup of pumpkin juice. _This is ridiculous._ There was a bug in her juice. Of course there was a bug in her juice. She couldn't possibly have something go right today could she? The worst part was that it was only eight in the morning. She still had the whole day to live through, and all she really wanted to do was go curl up under the covers in bed. _In bed in the dark_, she thought, wincing as the light continued to hurt her migraine sensitive eyes_. Let's add to my "bad things today" list the fact that the infirmary doesn't open for regular use until eight-thirty, which is the time my first class begins, so I won't have time to visit Madam Pomfrey until three-thirty this afternoon._.

Just then there was a feathery, fluttering and flapping sound, and Hermione half smiled in anticipation. _Okay, day, here's your chance to redeem yourself_. She watched the owls fly in, looking hopefully for a certain package she was expecting…

_Nope. Of course not,_ she thought to herself, several minutes later. _Of course it wouldn't get here today_. From the corner of her eye she caught Ron giving her a look of mixed curiosity and displeasure. She arched an eyebrow in question, but he just scowled into his mug of hot…whatever-it-was-he-was-drinking. She could see the steam, but hadn't been paying enough attention when he poured it to notice the nature of the mug's contents. She sighed as Ron became very involved in an early morning debate over the best way to block some curse or other. She watched him a bit longer then shook her head and turned back to picking at her breakfast.

Hermione was getting frustrated. It had been a month since Valentine's Day, and, much as she'd hoped after the events of that day (and his unusual treatment of her), that he might actually fancy her, absolutely nothing had happened. That indicated a lack of interest on his part, but even assuming that wasn't the case, and he did fancy her, she suspected he would need an excuse to admit it to her. Something like a holiday! But Valentine's Day was come and gone. It was only March! There wasn't anything at all romantic about March. The only holiday in March was St. Patrick's Day, a completely useless holiday ruled by the Slytherins, in which everyone had to wear some visible article of clothing in their representative color or risk harassment from the monarchs of all that was green. Of course, harassment from the Slytherins occurred everyday, but it doubled on St. Patrick's Day. Useless, utterly. The next, even remotely romantic holiday, then, was Halloween. She supposed there was something kind of sweet about dressing up in costumes and going to parties, but Hogwarts didn't celebrate that way, and Ron was unlikely to see it as a good enough excuse anyway. She could think of no other.

_So, what then? Do I wait for the_ next _Valentine's Day? _Sigh_. He probably doesn't even fancy me anyway. Oh, my head hurts_.

Frowning unhappily, she got up from her seat and picked up a Danish from one of the many platters in front of her, glad at least that they were serving raspberry today. No other kind had those pretty sugar sprinkles on top, and they were her favorites. She pulled her bag onto her shoulder and went back to thinking about Ron, vaguely noticing he and Harry had already left for class. Without her. She shook her head.

Really; nothing since Valentine's Day.

Not even a hug or an affectionate glance. No inexplicable flirting, no quality time… she was going mad trying to figure the boy out. Or maybe she was just going mad. She considered this as she walked down the hall on her way to class - _I must be mad, taking advanced transfiguration when I knew class was this early in the morning_ – and added to her list of bad day things the fact that it was a Monday. She hated Mondays. Absently, she took a bite of her Danish…and almost spit it across the hall. Struggling mightily against the disgusting impulse, she chewed quickly and swallowed, then ducked into the nearby bathroom where she threw the Danish on the counter and rinsed her mouth out with water from the tap. Several times. When she was done, she straightened her clothing, pushed her hair behind her ears and glared imperiously at the offending Danish.

"You're not raspberry."

The Danish just sat there.

"You're not even normal."

No reply.

Hermione lifted the pastry with thumb and forefinger and tossed it into the bathroom trashcan. It burped. Hands on her hips, she looked at the charmed object disdainfully.

"How can you eat that thing?" she asked it, as if she hadn't been the one to toss the disgusting food item in without asking first. The trashcan just sighed happily. She rolled her eyes and headed off to class once more.

"Honestly. Coconut. Who likes coconut? It's not even a real fruit. Real fruit doesn't come in hard cases; it certainly doesn't have fur. And real fruit doesn't have milk, it has juice." She entered the Transfiguration classroom and took her usual seat between Ron and Harry, still muttering to herself. "And even if it _were_ a real fruit, who in their right mind would make a coconut breakfast Danish? And then disguise it as a raspberry Danish? That's just…wrong."

"Er…You all right there Hermione?"

She looked up, right into Harry's amusement filled green eyes. "What?"

"I asked if you were all right. You were muttering to yourself about Danishes and coconuts. That's a little odd, if you ask me."

"I didn't, Harry."

"I don't know mate. I think she might be losing it," Ron agreed, leaning over Hermione with his elbow on her desk to get a look at Harry past her head. "After all, who talks about Danishes and coconuts together?"

"You would if you were expecting raspberry instead," Hermione told him bitterly. Both boys stared at her as she pouted down at her desk, and Harry shook his head.

"You're right, Ron, she's losing it." She felt her answering glare only fitting, but Harry was no longer paying attention. In fact, if she didn't know better, she'd say he was being very careful to look at anything _but_ her. Her eyes narrowed dangerously at his profile.

"I hate you."

He didn't even blink. Hermione glared some more, sighed, and realized this was getting her nowhere. She stared at her desk, wondering what to do now, and thinking that McGonagall was unusually late this morning. Of course, that was when the professor herself breezed into the room, looking hurried and rather annoyed.

"Speak of the devil…" she muttered absently.

Oh sure, now Harry looked her. Stupid, arrogant boy…always amused at something, and she could never figure out why.

"I hate you," she repeated for his benefit. His smirk only widened.

"Good morning class," Professor McGonagall greeted as she reached the front of the room. "I apologize for my tardiness; my presence was necessary elsewhere, due to the serious lack of judgment of several of my students." She gazed piercingly around the room, as if to say she hoped none of them had known of the implied misbehavior prior to its execution then turned to the desk behind her. With a wave of her wand and a loud incantation, the whole thing was transformed into a living breathing pot-bellied pig.

"Everyone, find a partner," their professor called. "Today we are going to apply the spell we learned last Friday. By the end of class you must successfully transfigure your desk into a pig. Points will be awarded according to the appropriate characteristics, and deducted, obviously, for inaccurate size, shape, coloring and any remaining drawers or drawer-knobs. Please begin now."

From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw that Harry was already paired with Seamus, as per usual. She, of course, turned to Ron, mouth already open to begin discussion on proper wand swishing technique when she suddenly noticed Rom already had a partner. A Ravenclaw partner. A _pretty _Ravenclaw partner. She gaped at the back of his head for several seconds while her mind processed what was happening. She always partnered with Ron in Transfiguration. The three of them had discussed it, and it had been obvious to all of them that it was Ron who most needed Hermione's help in this class. Harry did just fine if he worked with Dean or Seamus, but this was Ron's second most difficult subject. He needed her.

Obviously not.

"Hey, Hermione, I guess it's just you and me, huh?"

She stared at Neville in incomprehension. Then realization suddenly dawned on her, and she mentally winced. _Not Neville…He's likely to turn_ me _into a pig!_ Still, he was a nice boy; she genuinely liked him, and she knew most people groaned at having to work with him. So she stood up, smiled and said, "Absolutely. Let's begin with the wand movement…Now when you say the incantation, remember to lift your elbow just so, so that the…"

Very patiently she proceeded to explain the whole process to him thoroughly, knowing he'd have forgotten last week's lesson. At least _someone_ wanted her help, and she was determined that she should give it to him.

Nearly two hours later at the end of a very long class period, Hermione let out a soft but happy cheer as Neville's desk joined her own in sniffing about the room for food in any form. She grabbed the boy up in an excited hug, still exclaiming happily.

"That was wonderful, Neville, spot on!" she told him, grinning like a maniac as she watched the only two completely transfigured desks trot passed Harry's feet (and similarly his pig-desk, which looked like a pig except that it had retained it's desk-feet) towards the pen where the Professor had put a trough for them earlier in the period. The boy grinned shyly back at her.

"Thank you, Hermione. I could never have done it right without you."

She smiled at him gently. "Oh sure you could, Neville, it just might have taken you a bit longer." He looked like he was about to answer, but just then McGonagall asked that those who had not already done so, please turn in their pig desk now so that she could grade them, and then promptly dismissed class. Hermione made her way out the door and down the hallway without waiting for her friends, but she soon realized it was too much to hope that they wouldn't catch up. Harry reached her first.

"Hermione." She ignored him and kept walking, not because she was angry at him, but because she knew if she stopped, he would apologize, and she'd say it was okay because she liked Neville, and it's not like Harry could have known it would happen, then Ron would catch up and say something stupid and they'd fight… She really didn't want to go through all that.

Mostly she didn't want to fight with Ron. It wasn't any fun…and her head hurt enough as it was.

Unfortunately, Harry didn't seem to appreciate being ignored. When she continued anyway, he gently grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.

"Look, Hermione, I just wanted to apologize."

"There's no need, Harry."

He looked concerned. "Are you sure, because if I'd known Ron was going to-"

She waved him off, pulling her arm from his grip and turning away. "Harry, there's no way you could have known," she told him, only slightly exasperated. She started walking again and he followed. "Besides, I don't mind working with Neville. He's sweet."

"Sweet?" Ron's voice rang in her ears as he came up beside them. "Hermione, he's a joke! Couldn't perform a spell correctly to save his life."

"Funny, Ron," she replied mildly, "I don't recall seeing _your_ pig back there. But then, maybe I misunderstood the assignment. I _thought_ she said pig, but maybe she _really_ said furry desk with a tail." Hermione cocked her head at him curiously. "Tell me, Ronald, was it _supposed_ to turn that funny puce color?"

Ron made a wordless sound of frustration. "He could never have done it without you, Hermione."

"Yes, but _he_ could do it _with_ me," she told him pointedly, and strode past him down the hall.

"So could I!" he called after her.

"I think the point, mate, is that you didn't," Harry told him, and hurried to catch up to their friend.

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Hermione was tired. She had been tired before, but this went beyond tired, this was _tired_. Something about the combination of no sleep, migraines and bad days seemed to be three times as draining on energy reserves as normal days. At least in Transfiguration she'd been moving around; _doing_ something. Sitting still though, she had discovered, was very dangerous when tired. She yawned (for the fifth time in as many minutes) and tried to focus again on what Professor Binns was saying. A minute later her head jerked as she started to fall asleep, and she scowled at the quill in her hand, whose movement had had the duty of keeping her awake. Obviously simply taking notes wasn't going to work. Not that Professor Binns would notice if she fell asleep, but really, if she slept, who was going to take notes? Ron and Harry would definitely fail if she didn't take notes for them to copy later (though she was reconsidering letting Ron have them now), not to mention the effect her lack of study materials would have on her hard won grade. No! She must stay awake!

Determined, Hermione began to count the number of cracks in the podium her professor used in his lectures (not that he needed it). She was not going to fall asleep if it killed her!

Which was why Hermione was so surprised when she suddenly found herself on the floor. After a bit of disorientation, Hermione realized she must have fallen asleep after all. But when she didn't wake up at that realization, she came to the sudden conclusion that she _was_ actually awake, and that the fall from her desk had woken her.

Which meant that she really had fallen asleep.

And she really had fallen from her desk.

And she really had screamed.

And the class really was laughing at her.

_Ron_ really was laughing at her. So hard _he_ might fall out of his desk.

_Harry_ already had.

And she really was blushing.

And none of this was going to go away.

She covered her face with her hands.

"Miss Granger, are you all right?"

"Yes, Professor," she replied, voice muffled by her hands.

"Then please take your seat so that we may continue with our lesson."

"Yes, Professor," she sighed, pulling herself from the floor and back into her chair.

"Now, as I was saying, the vampire uprising of 1462 caused the attention of muggles to focus once again on the existence of supernatural beings other than witches and wizards. The most notable case involved a vampire named Dracula, also known as Prince Vladislav Basarab, whose behavior attracted unparalleled attention, enough so that a muggle named Bram Stoker wrote a book about him centuries later…"

For the most part the class had quieted, but there were still a few repressed snorts here and there. Most notably from Harry and Ron. She glanced over and glared when she saw both boys wiping their eyes. Harry had a huge smudge of dirt and dust across his back from laying on the floor, and Ron's face was red. Both started laughing again every time they caught sight of her.

Just for that, she wasn't going to brush Harry's back off when class was over. Let him run around with dirt on his robes; that would teach him. And they could borrow someone else's notes too.

_She_ was going to have to borrow someone else's notes.

With a sigh she attempted to record the rest of lesson, but, listening to the muffled giggling throughout the room (at her expense!), she knew it was a lost cause.

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"…kill them both, yes. Never mind that they're the best friends. What kind of best friends _laugh_? I laughed at the dirt on his back, but _Ginny_ brushed it off. _Why_ did she do that?"

Ginny subtly slanted a glance at the girl beside her, concerned. Hermione had been sitting there for the past ten minutes, mumbling to herself.

"And then there was the stupid _stair_. I'd kill that too, but it's not _alive_…"

As far as the red-head could make out, Hermione had embarrassed herself by falling asleep in class and falling out of her desk in the process. Then she had gotten her foot stuck in the sinking stair on the way down to lunch and Filch had had to come get her loose. The ever-dissatisfied handy-man/janitor had given her a detention tonight for his troubles. Finally, Dennis Creevey accidentally bumped his brother just as Hermione sat down beside him and she'd ended up with pumpkin juice on her robes (which had been quickly and magically cleaned, but that was beside the point).

At least, that's what Ginny thought had happened, but she wasn't quite sure. The way Harry and Ron were laughing hysterically while simultaneously trying to eat and talk, it was hard to tell. She shot another worried glance at Hermione, then elbowed her boyfriend. Startled, the laughing boy almost choked on his sandwich, but he eventually recovered and looked at her curiously. He was still grinning.

"I think maybe you should stop laughing now," she whispered. He snickered quietly and asked her why.

"Look at her, Harry," she replied. "She's mumbling about murder and laughing. I think it's time you knocked it off. An apology might not be out of place either. She's having a bad day, and the two of you aren't making it any easier."

Harry regarded his friend thoughtfully, but Ron just shook his head.

"She's had bad days before," he said. "She's not killed us yet."

"There's a first time for everything, you great prat," Ginny hissed. She stood up and glared irritably down at her brother. "I really hope she teaches you a thing or two when it finally happens. We all know no one deserves it more." The younger Weasley promptly left the Great Hall.

"Good going, Ron. Now you've gone and made _Ginny_ angry." Harry started after his girlfriend.

Ron snorted. "Come on, Hermione," he muttered, hoping to catch up to Harry. "We're going to be late." He didn't wait to see if she heard him.

He should have.

Ten minutes later Hermione came out of her musings only to realize the room was nearly empty and she had exactly fifty seconds to get to her class, _all_ the way down _in the dungeons_! Swiftly she rose from her seat and made her way along the many corridors leading to potions. Due to her great distress, she wasn't much watching where she was going, and she tripped over her own untied shoelaces in her hurry to get to class before much more time elapsed. She was startled enough by her sudden headlong plummet towards the stone floor of the corridor that she had no time to catch herself, which was bad enough in and of itself, but as it just so happened, Malfoy and his two lackeys were a little late for class themselves, and they just happened to be in the right place at the right time to witness her embarrassing little escapade.

"So. The mudblood's not only disgusting, she's stupid and clumsy too." Malfoy was quick as always to voice his disparaging thoughts out loud.

"Yeah, stupid and clumsy," echoed Crabbe.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione glared from her place on the floor. She was considering just setting up shop right there on the ground; she was spending enough time there lately. Who _walked_ nowadays anyway? And furniture? Please. That was so last year.

"Not filthy enough as it is, mudblood? You have to go rolling around on the floors now to get dirtier?"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Angry now, she jumped to her feet.

Heedless, Malfoy persisted. "It's no wonder no one but a rodent and the king of toilets can stand to be around you. I mean, with that hair and those clothes, all covered in a thick layer of dirt and grime, what else can you-"

"I said, Shut Up!" And then she did something very rare for Hermione. She hexed him. Not just any hex, either. Ginny's beautiful, wonderful Bat Bogey Hex. Then she punched him. And she hexed him again. Several times, actually, just to be safe. Then she nailed Crabbe.

Goyle took off running.

Twenty minutes later she marched proudly into class, two more detentions and a subtraction of fifty points from Gryffindor under her belt, and haughtily took her seat. She easily ignored the quiet laughter and awed whispering, but it was harder not to notice that Ron never realized she'd been gone. Harry shot her a sympathetic look.

Her potion, just barely completed in the remaining thirty minutes of class, was perfect.

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Hermione descended the stairs from the girls' dormitories lost in thought with her half-empty book bag in hand. She had one class left, just one, and then this day would be over. The social part of it at least. That, combined with the lovely migraine potion Ginny had brought her from the infirmary just now had lightened her mood considerably. Already she could feel the throbbing ease.

_I am going to buy that girl the nicest birthday gift this year. Ginny is my new best friend. So much nicer than the old ones_. That being said, she glared pointedly first at Ron (newly returned from retrieving Pig from the owlery), then Harry, as she walked past them to the alcove where she had stored her schoolbooks and parchment for her study convenience. Just for good measure, she shot Ron one last glare over her shoulder before focusing on finding the half-filled roll of parchment that contained her current Care of Magical Creatures notes. She considered the stacks of books and parchment that filled the alcove to overflowing and decided this was not a problem. She still had twenty minutes left to get to class, that was plenty of time to find her stupid notes in this mess. Luckily for her, the parchment she was looking for was only the eleventh she checked, and she crowed triumphantly as she shoved it in her bag and strode confidently from the alcove…straight into a wall.

"Ow!" she yelped, clutching her head in her hands. "Oh, ow! _OW!_"

Ron, who had been attempting to catch Pig when she walked into the wall, was now staring at her instead. "Did you just walk into the wall?"

"Ow!" said Hermione.

Ron looked at a stunned Harry. "She just walked into a wall." Then he grinned, furiously scribbled something onto the end of his letter, and snatched his wayward owl from the air. "Home, Pig. Straight home." He flung the owl, letter attached, out the window and grumbled after him, "useless piece of cat fodder." He resumed his chair and then his smile. "That'll make for some interesting conversation around the table this summer."

Hermione, who caught the tail end of Ron's frantic attempts to send his letter, now stared at Ron. "Ronald," she said, one hand still rubbing her forehead and the other fisted firmly on her hip, "please tell me you did not just write about this in your letter."

Ron looked up at her. "Then I'd be lying, Hermione. I'd hate to have to lie to you."

"Who did you send that to, Ron?" She demanded, disbelief etched on her face.

"Just my mum," he replied.

"Ronald!" she screeched, mortified. If Mrs. Weasley knew, all the Weasleys would know too. That included the twins. Inwardly, she groaned. _Note to self: avoid all contact with Fred and George for at least ten years._

Outwardly, she glared. "We cannot be friends right now, Ronald," and she stalked from the room.

Ron looked at Harry. "What's _with_ her today? _She_ was the one who walked into the wall!"

Out in the corridor, as Hermione continued to stomp her way to Hagrid's cabin, one thought stood out in her throbbing mind: _So much for that migraine potion_.

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Hermione trudged back to the castle after her last class of the day, still in pain and feeling rather more than disgruntled. Ron and Harry walked just ahead of her, talking animatedly about the Golden Snidget Hagrid had received special permission to show them in Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione was trying hard not to think about it. She'd gotten an answer wrong in class for the first time in, well… she didn't know. A very long time, anyway. She just knew she'd never hear the end of it.

She sighed as they made it to the entrance hall, and came to the realization that she wasn't very hungry. Still she thought she might try to eat, if only because she had so much still to do today.

_Stupid detentions_.

"And then Hermione got an answer wrong. We couldn't hardly believe it!"

"She _what?_"

Hermione glanced over to see Harry and Ron relating the details of the afternoon to a very interested Ginny Weasley and scowled. Great, she snorted. It was starting already. And with her best friends, too.

"Yeah," added Harry, "and then in potions earlier, she was half an hour late because she had a fight with Malfoy in the corridor and-"

"She _what?_" Ron exclaimed. Hermione, rolled her eyes.

_I don't want to deal with this_. She made her way towards the staircase.

"Fifty points, two detentions and a fight with Malfoy on top of the missing homework, the falling asleep in class, the wrong answer, the pumpkin juice and the wall?" Ginny clarified.

"I know. Hermione never slacks off like this. I don't even know what to think."

"She hexed Malfoy." Ron shook his head in awe. "She answered a question wrong. She _hexed Malfoy_."

_Maybe I'll at least get some sleep before I have to serve detention. Maybe my headache will go away. Yeah. And maybe Hagrid will actually bake something edible_. She silently started up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, trying to keep herself from hexing _Ron_.

The sight of her hasty escape attempt was apparently enough to quell Ron's shock. "Hermione, aren't you coming down to dinner?"

Wordlessly, Hermione growled and continued stalking up the stairs.

"Hermione," the deep voice sounded concerned. She couldn't help herself; she turned around.

"Dinner?'

"No thank you, Ronald." And she walked up the stairs to her room.

_This has been a terrible day._

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And that's chapter nine! Only two chapters left to go (for those of you who are wondering). Such sadness and joy combined! For those of you who haven't already (meaning those of you who made a beeline for the Seasonal Suffering update and passed it by) go check out my new little one-shot, Brotherly Love. It's so cute, I love sibling moments! Also, much thanks goes out to my dearest friend, Gratia. It was to her that the "run into the wall" scene actually happened (yes, really, only it was her dad, not an I-wish-he-were-my-boyfriend; and a telephone, not a letter) and without her that scene would be sadly missing from my narrative. That said, I am going to go post this, and get back to work on chapter ten, which was once chapter nine, but was rearranged, and so, hopefully is almost done (I know, the excitement is almost unendurable). Until then!


	10. Raging Row

**Seasonal Suffering**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; not the characters, not the setting, not the idea, nada, except the plot of this story (and maybe not even that for, "There is nothing new under the sun").

Notes: I told you it wouldn't take long! Ha! For once, I got a chapter out about when I said I would, which was "soon." A week is "soon," right? Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, because I worked hard to get it done this early; there was a lot more left to do than I thought there was (it was only nine pages long when I finished chapter nine, and three of those had to be deleted). Happy Reading!

**Important Note! _Any time you see (S) or (SS) in the story, it means that it's a quote, and the source is given in the ending footnotes. Okay_, now _you can go read._**

**Chapter Ten: Raging Row**

Hermione had desperately hoped, upon stumbling into bed after her detentions last night (two consecutive detentions in one night was a bit much, she'd decided), that when she woke to this day, it might be a better day than the day before. After all, how could it not be? Yesterday had been so bad, there was no way the next could fail to be an improvement. And weren't the worst of days always followed by the best of?

Apparently not.

_Why_ must today feel so much like a continuation of yesterday, rather than a new beginning? Already things were going badly. For instance, Madam Pomfrey's second dosage of migraine potion, administered last night before bed, had failed completely and she was now enduring a migraine for the _third_ day in a row. And migraine's only get worse as time goes on. In addition, she had woken late today (as opposed to yesterday when she'd woken exceptionally early) and now had just fifteen minutes to eat and get to class. She scowled into her juice, checking it first for bugs before drinking almost half the glass in one gulp. The sound of flapping wings was only mildly hopeful; the post had not been a blessing at all yesterday and things weren't looking any better today, so what were the chances, all considering, that anything would change? Still, maybe today _would_ be different. Taking a bite of her usual breakfast of toast, because she hadn't time to stop eating while she watched the delivery owls, she turned her eyes hopefully to the ceiling.

"There she goes again, captivated by the mail flight. Clearly she's expecting _something_, Harry. It's been almost two weeks now that she's watched the owls like that." She caught the half glare Ron directed at her from the corner of her eye. "What are you waiting for Hermione, a love letter from your precious _Vicky_?" he sneered. She jerked around to face him, gaping in astonishment both at his vindictive tone and the fact that he was still stuck on the stupid Krum thing. It took her several seconds to recover, but when she had, she felt fury ignite in her heart against the boy who for two days now had so unfeelingly hurt her.

Intelligence and rational thinking were thrown out the window; Hermione snapped.

"Ronald Weasley, you insufferable _GIT_!" she shouted, jumping to her feet. "I do not now, have never in my life, and _will_ never fancy Viktor Krum! I think your _inability_ to grasp this concept obviously telling as to the level of your _intelligence_, and your inability to correctly pronounce his _name_ is further proof of both your stupidity and your _immaturity_! Furthermore," she continued, ignoring the fact that every eye in the otherwise silent Great Hall was now on her, "I don't see how it's any of _your _business even if we were secretly meeting once a week to declare our undying _love_ for each other, you have no right to stick your nose into my life that way, no reason to insult another person just because he's dating me-especially when you know nothing about him-and _absolutely_ no right to criticize my choice in a male companion! For the last time! Krum. Is. Just. My. _Friend_! I'm _not_ in love with him. I'm _not_ seeing him secretly. I'm _not _exchanging weekly love notes with him. We _occasionally_ exchange friendly letters. We do this because he _is my friend_! So are you. So is Harry. So is Colin, for that matter, and Dean, and Seamus, and Jack, and any number of other males at this school. Are you going to start insulting all of _them_ too? Are you going to start accusing me of snogging _Harry_ behind your back? For heaven's sake, Ronald, _what_ is the _matter_ with you?"

Now it was _Ron_ who was gaping at _her_. Suddenly he jumped to his feet too.

"What's the matter with _me_? What's the matter with _you_? You're the one scowling into your breakfast hardly speaking a word until the mail comes, then suddenly your whole _face_ lights up! What else am I supposed to think, Hermione? You're the one giving the impression that the only thing you live for each day is a letter in the mail!"

"I am _not_!"

"You have been lately! Two weeks Hermione. For _two weeks_ you've spent every breakfast watching the ceiling!"

"Why do you even care, Ron?" she hissed at him.

"You know what?" he snarled viciously. "I don't! I'm _sorry_ my involvement in your life has been so hard on you; I hadn't realized that I was such a _burden_. Poor _stupid_ me, here I thought all this time we were friends! Forgive me for bothering to care about you at all then; I promise _never_ to do it again!"

"Fine!" she shouted, storming through the hall towards the door.

"_Fine!_" he shouted after her, just before owl poop landed on her shoulder. Tears she refused to let fall pricked her eyes as his cruel, mirthless laughter followed her out the door and some ways down the corridor. After all, there was no other sound in the Great Hall to drown it out.

It wasn't until she was halfway up the second flight of stairs on her way to class that the full impact of what had just happened finally hit her and she staggered against the wall with a sob she could no longer contain.

_I just lost Ron_. And the worst part wasn't that she had just ruined any chance she might ever have had with him romantically. The worst part was that she'd just lost her best friend.

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"Hermione," she heard her name whispered very softly. "Hermione, honey, wake up." Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. She instantly squeezed them shut again with a groan. Crying oneself to sleep is not a good way to get rid of a headache, and her mind screamed at even the faint light coming through the single open window across the room.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry." Came the very soft voice again, growing somewhat distant as it talked. Hermione heard the sound of the drapes being pulled across the window, then the soft, careful pad of footsteps returning to her side. She made a little sound when the mattress depressed next to her, and made no effort to move when the bed curtains were drawn closed again and her roommate snuggled down beside her on top of the covers, both arms around her. "We were worried about you, sweetheart. You've slept half the day away; you never sleep that long. Are you feeling any better?" Hermione gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head, her eyes still closed tightly. "I'm sorry, 'Mione." Parvati sighed then snorted softly. "You weren't in any classes this morning; the teachers didn't quite know what to do with themselves. They've been asking about you left and right, and we've been coming up with all kinds of outlandish excuses. In charms today, Lavender told Flitwick that you and Ginny were having one of your famous mock battles last night and got so caught up in it you started throwing hexes for real. Told him you were so covered in boils, spots, and glittery pink feathers that you'd be in the infirmary for a week. The whole class was in chaos for ten minutes afterwards and Flitwick fell off his stack of books twice!" Hermione gave a quaking laugh that morphed into a low sobbing moan. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Parvati's arms tightened around her. "Talk to me about it, 'Mione."

"I've lost him, Parvati," Hermione whispered hoarsely. "I'm in love with him and that's not even the part I care about most. I've lost my best friend."

Parvati gathered the other girl close, rubbing her back and combing her hair gently with her fingers as she let her cry into her shoulder.

"It was all so stupid, Parvati. I wasn't even waiting for a letter from Viktor. My parents are sending me something this month…I was so excited about it. Now I wish I'd never known it was coming. What am I going to do?"

"It's going to be okay, 'Mione. Everything's going to be okay."

Half an hour later, Lavender came in with a plate of lunch and yet another migraine potion from Madam Pomfrey. After being forced to consume both, Hermione fell into a deep sleep, and her worried roommates held a hushed conversation across the room.

"This is ridiculous. She shouldn't have to go through this."

"Ron has been a zombie all through classes today. It's not like he's faring any better."

"He deserves it."

"Lavender, you know that's not true. She shouldn't have yelled at him in that derogatory manner in front of the entire school, and he should not have been nosy and lost his temper that way. They both behaved irrationally. They share the fault."

Lavender sighed. "I know." She brightened. "Do I still get to beat him up?"

"Only verbally, Lav, and not today. Come on. Let's get to class."

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It was late afternoon when Hermione finally came down from her dorm the day of her big fight with Ron. It was her first time out of her room since that morning, her first time even out of bed, for she had just woken. Yet she felt anything but rested, and was dreading the rest of the day enough that she had to fight at every step to keep from running back up the stairs. Still, despite her puffy, red-rimmed eyes and wilder than normal hair, her descent into the common room was quiet and dignified. Everyone in the room noticed her arrival with a mixture of relief and concern, and maybe a little trepidation; everyone but two.

Harry Potter felt no relief whatsoever. She was up, true, but she looked a wreck and she was avoiding eye-contact. In fact, she was ignoring him completely. Harry suspected this had something to do with the fact that he was sitting next to Ron, but that didn't make him feel any better about it. His best friends were both going through a very difficult time, and he was being completely ignored by one of them for something he hadn't done. Harry was worried, hurt, and more than a little annoyed.

Ron Weasley, on the other hand, watched her come in, scowled fiercely, and promptly ignored her too. Obviously he was still angry.

Sharing the feelings of the rest of the room's occupants, Parvati and Lavender leapt from their seats and rushed to their roommate's side.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" Parvati asked quietly.

Hermione, still in her wrinkled (but _scourgified_) school robes, pushed hair from her face and swallowed thickly. "Much better now that my headache's gone." She smiled gratefully at her roommates. "Thanks for having Madam Pomfrey make me a double dose. You girls are wonderful."

"If you think that was great, you'll love this. We're going to run down to the kitchens and grab you an early dinner, then we're going to set you up on the couch with all of today's notes and let you copy them down. You can even nag us to do our homework if you like."

Hermione smiled a small, genuine smile and said, "Thanks girls, I appreciate it. But if you don't mind, I'd like to come down to the kitchens with you; I've sat still enough today, I'd like to move around a little."

Minutes later found Hermione sitting at the kitchen's sole table with her roommates, eating potatoes and roast and watching the house elves rush around preparing dinner. At one point, a house elf she didn't know (and who must have been new) stopped by her table and asked if she needed anything. Before she could answer though, two of his fellow workers retrieved him, casting nervous glances at her over their shoulders as they not so quietly explained that that was the scary girl who tried to give elves clothes, and only Dobby ever talked to her. Hermione sighed dejectedly as the house elf made an "eep!" sort of sound and raced out of sight. Parvati and Lavender only laughed.

"Serves you right, Hermione," Lavender told her. "If you'd left off at offering them clothes, rather than trying to hide them in the common room to be accidentally 'found,' they'd probably not be so afraid."

"Yeah," Parvati agreed, sipping her water, "they'd only be annoyed with you for trying to free them, not genuinely frightened."

Hermione mock scowled at both her friends, then sighed and took another bite of roast. "I still think S.P.E.W. was a good idea," she muttered under her breath. She didn't mutter it quietly enough, apparently, because almost every house elf in the room vanished instantaneously at the sound of the acronym. This only made Lavender and Parvati laugh all the harder, and even Hermione chuckled a little, especially when Dobby walked into the room, glanced around, and asked if the misses knew where all the others had gone. Her roommates had to drag Hermione away before she tried to explain and ended up preaching about the mistreatment of house elves to the one house elf who was already "free." The three were still chuckling when they ran across Professor Flitwick on his way to dinner.

"Miss Granger!" he exclaimed, startled to see her looking so well. "I see that you are feeling better. I hope that your time in the infirmary wasn't terribly unpleasant, what with the feathers and the boils and all."

"What? Oh! Oh, right sir. No, it wasn't. Madam Pomfrey was very helpful." Hermione could scarcely contain her grin.

"Good, glad to hear it. I trust you'll not be holding any more mock battles with Miss Weasley, Miss Granger?"

"No sir."

"I thought not. Because it's obvious to me that you not only suffered from the experience, but you lost rather badly."

"Yes sir, no one throws a good hex better than Ginny."

"Is that so? Hmmm. I'd have thought until today that you would. Oh well. I expect you'll be copying today's notes and assignment from one of your fellow students? It wouldn't do for the first in the class to get behind."

"No sir. I'm to copy Lavender and Parvati's notes later this evening."

"Excellent." The Professor considered her for several seconds then shook his head in disbelief. "It's amazing what modern medical potions can do these days. I find it incredible that the extra head is gone so quickly, and without any evidence that it ever existed!"

_Extra head?_ Lavender and Parvati snorted in attempts to choke off laughter, and Hermione's voice was a little high with her own attempt at self-control.

"Without a trace, right. Well, Professor, I must be off. I have lots of homework to catch up on you know."

"Yes, very good. I will see you in class the day after tomorrow then. Good day, Miss Granger, Miss Brown, Miss Patil." He nodded to each of them in turn, then trotted off to the Great Hall.

It was all Hermione could do to hold her tongue until he was out of earshot, but as soon as he was, she turned on her roommates in disbelief. "Extra head?"

"Okay," replied Parvati, "so maybe we got a little carried away." All three burst out laughing, but the joy of the moment was short lived for Hermione, for it had barely begun when Ron and Harry rounded the corner. At the sight of the red-head, the laughter died in her throat. Ron caught sight of her too, and for an instant their gazes locked. But Ron's eyes were hard and cold as they hadn't been since the Firebolt fiasco in third year, and at least then she had been in the right. This time, she wasn't so sure that was the case.

Internally she decided she hated that gaze, and she should have been more careful about what she said this morning. She and Ron had fought before, but she of all people knew how proud he was, and she had ridiculed him in front of the entire school anyway. How, exactly, had she expected him to react? True he should have left the Viktor Krum subject alone, and really, her relationship with him wasn't any of Ron's business anyway, but since when had she become so cruel and vindictive? She was hurt, so she had wanted to hurt him. Regretfully she realized that it had obviously worked.

_Good job, Hermione. _

"Hello, Hermione." Harry's voice, too, was cool.

_I ignored him_, she realized, _and he's angry about it. What kind of friend am I?_

"I'm sorry, Harry," she told him. He seemed to understand because he nodded and smiled at her.

"You're sorry, _Harry_?" Ron was scowling. "What have you done to him? Borrowed his quill without permission? For heaven's sake Hermione."

"What?" she stared at him.

"You're always _so quick_ to apologize to _Harry_. It's not hard to see which direction the favoritism flows in this relationship," he hissed scornfully.

Hermione frowned, regret quickly forgotten in the face of irritation. "Well, you know, Harry doesn't try micromanage my life, Ron."

"Neither do I!"

"No you just tell me who I can and cannot be friends with," she answered sarcastically.

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Harry jumped in.

"Stop it, Ron."

"Oh, so now you're taking _her_ side."

"I am not choosing sides!"

"That's sure what it looks like."

"Oh, _shut up_ Ronald!"

"Hermione, you're not helping here." Harry glared at her.

"Harry!"

"Oh, yeah, now that he's not defending _her_ she gets upset," Ron told the ceiling.

"Ronald, I swear-"

"Shut up, _both_ of you! Now!" Harry added when they both tried to speak. "This is your stupid fight," he continued in the soft, deadly serious voice he used when he was being the savior of the world. "You are _both_ my best friends; I will not choose between you, and I'm not going to be put in the middle of this. If the two of you want to battle it out, fine, but don't expect me to participate, because I won't. And if you try to force the issue, I'll stop speaking to either of you. I doubt you'll appreciate hearing it, but really this whole thing is stupid. You're _friends_."

Ron snorted. So did Hermione.

They glared at each other.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine be that way. I just hope you both realize you're going to regret this later. Your pride is going to ruin a beautiful thing, and I won't feel sorry for either of you if you let it." He looked at Hermione. "Are you coming to dinner?"

"I already ate."

"Fine. Ron, I'll see you in the Great Hall." That said, their best friend strode angrily away.

"Good going, Ron. Now you've gone and made Harry mad at both of us."

"Me? I don't recall your helping the situation any."

"You are such a prat, Ronald!"

"That never seemed to bother you before, Hermione. Why is it suddenly so different now?"

At first she wanted to give a smart-mouthed reply, but looking up at him she caught a glimpse of something very serious in his eyes. "It's not, Ron," she insisted. The flash of pain in his eyes was unmistakable, and she suddenly realized she'd just made a very big mistake. Before she could reassure him, though, that she hadn't meant what he was thinking, he turned away from her.

"So this isn't a new thing then." His voice wasn't even angry now, it was just flat. "If that's really what you think of me, it's no wonder you like Krum so much better."

"Ron."

He turned around again, his face as emotionless as his voice. "What do you want, Granger?"

Tears pricked her eyes. "Stop it, Ron."

"Are you going to cry?"

"Knock it off, Ronald!" she was angry now. "You're being stupid."

"So you keep telling me. Why don't you run complain to _Vicky _about it? _I'm_ tired of hearing it."

"Oh! Ronald!" Her temper flared so hot so suddenly that she had trouble stopping herself from hitting him for his hard-headed vengefulness. It would not be wise, some distant part of her mind realized, to continue to stand here with him; she might _really _do something she'd regret. So instead she flew upstairs in hopes of finding some other way of venting her anger.

Ron watched her go with wet eyes, then went down to dinner.

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Half an hour later, Harry was having a bit of a chat with Seamus, Dean and Ginny over desert about the nature of his own latest and unhappily well-deserved detention. A sullen Ron was listening half-heartedly.

"He had me cleaning all his torture devices! I seriously spent four hours last night cleaning and polishing manacles and spikes and all sorts of other tools. He even has a rack! And these things hadn't been cleaned in ages; they were filthy! It was worse than scrubbing the dungeon floors with a tooth brush after a day of Neville's exploding cauldrons."

"Yeah, but torture devices? Why that of all things?"

"I dunno, mate. I guess he couldn't come up with anything better." It was a this point that Parvati and Jack came flying through the Great Hall doors, their appearance mussed and hurried, and frantically looking about the hall for something.

"What in the world… What are they looking for?" Ginny murmured.

Harry only shook his head. "No idea." The words were barely out of his mouth when Jack's gaze met his. Without breaking eye contact, Jack grabbed his girlfriend's arm and the two hurried down the length of the table to stand beside Harry.

"Harry," Parvati gasped, desperately grabbing at his arm and trying to catch her breath, "come quick! She's gone mad! Stark raving mad!"

"Who's gone mad?"

"Hermione!" At the mention of her name, Ron's face darkened, and he studiously turned his attention to his plate. Ginny glared at the top of his head, but he didn't seem to notice.

"What do you mean Hermione's gone mad?" Harry questioned. He glanced sideways at Ron, then back to Parvati.

"I mean, she's standing in the middle of the common room, summoning every breakable object she knows the location of and flinging it against the wall while muttering a long stream of incessant insults under her breath. She won't even listen to me! Almost took my head off with a vase from the fourth floor corridor!"

"She what?" Harry was incredulous.

"She's not joking, look!" Jack held up his arm to reveal a long slice in the fabric of his sleeve and the skin beneath. It was bleeding sluggishly, as were several small cuts on his hands. "I tried to catch one of those little glass figurines from the alcoves on the third floor, and it shattered. There's glass and such all over the common room floor already. Nobody can get in there and some of us still have classes!"

Harry sighed and stood from his seat, looking anything but enthusiastic. "All right, let's go see what Ron has done now." Then, under his breath, "I knew I shouldn't have left them unsupervised in the hallway."

"Hey!"

"Oh shut up, Ron," his sister muttered. "The two of you are ridiculous." She hurried to catch up with Harry.

"I'm not ridiculous!" Ron told her, matching her pace, then fell silent at the look she gave him. There were times when Ginny got angry that she was just a little too much more of Molly than she was of Arthur. It was uncanny.

No sooner had the five Gryffindors reached the corridor in which their tower was located than they were bombarded with questions and comments from the crowd of their housemates gathered there.

"Harry, you really don't want to go in there, mate."

"She's nutters, that one is-"

"I always said she was a-"

"She seemed fine, what made her-"

"Are you really-"

"What happened-"

"Did you know she broke your-"

"Shut up!" shouted Ron, earning many shocked, and a few mutinous looks from those around him. Harry, who had been looking rather flustered at the sheer number of questions being asked, now breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Ron."

"No problem, Harry," the red-head replied.

"Okay. Let me through." A low murmur of protest rose from the other Gryffindors, but it fell quickly when Ron, who was well known for his quick-fire temper (especially in the last few days), glared meaningfully around the hall. Silently the crowd parted and Harry approached the fat lady's portrait. "Butter flavored Bertie Botts Every Flavor beans," he told her calmly.

"Are you sure you want to go in there, dear? I can hear her from here; it might be rather dangerous and-"

"Just let us in; we'll be fine," Harry snapped.

The fat lady humphed unhappily. "Well, fine. I'll let you in, there's no reason to be so rude." The portrait swung open, its occupant still looking disgruntled.

Now that there was nothing obstructing his way to the common room, Harry could hear the crashes and faint muttering that was Hermione venting her anger in a most unusual way. Shooting a meaningful look at Ron, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, crawled through…

And immediately flattened himself against the floor, silently giving thanks for Quidditch honed reflexes as a ceramic platter, apparently summoned from the kitchens, shattered heavily against the stone wall behind him. Ron ducked the falling shards as he crawled through after his friend, and the two sat on the floor, conferring briefly.

"Couch?"

"Couch."

Thus decided, they cowered behind the safety of the couch's soft, really-hard-to-break-something-against-it mass and took some time to absorb what was happening. Hermione, completely oblivious to their arrival, continued her tirade.

"Stupid, no good red-head!" Crash! "Ignorant, oafish, thick-headed half-wit!" Crash! "Thou shouldst be put in a cauldron of lead and usurer's grease, amongst a whole million of cutpurses, and there boil like a gammon of bacon that will never be enough,(S) thou spongy spur-galled apple-john!" Crash! Crash! Crash!

Instinctively Ron ducked, though Hermione couldn't see him, and whispered to Harry, "Is she talking about me?" Harry nodded solemnly.

"Dense, uncultured, imbecilic git!" Crash! "Uneducated prat!" Crash! "Peon! Oblivious even to the nose on his face!" Crash!

"What? I know I have a nose!" Ron whispered vehemently, feeling rather insulted by this point.

"Shut up, Ron. That wasn't exactly what she meant."

"Well, what then?"

Harry stared at him. "She's right. You are dense." The unhappy Weasley scowled fiercely at his friend.

"I get enough of that from her. I don't need it from you too." Harry only sighed and softly clapped a hand on his shoulder, still listening to Hermione.

"Know-nothing cretin! Thou art i' th' worst rank of manhood;(S) a notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of no one good quality!"(S) Crashcrashcrashcrash!

"Where is she getting these things?" Ron hissed.

"Shakespeare. You know Hermione's angry when she starts quoting muggle playwrights."

"Lint has a higher IQ." Crash! "And makes a better companion, too!"

"That's Shakespeare?"

"No. That was Hermione."

"You don't even know the meaning of the word stupid, but then you don't know the meaning of _most_ words!" Crash! "Any similarity between you and a human is purely coincidental!" Crash! Crash!

"Okay, that's going a bit far." Ron's face was fast growing red with anger. Shock had kept him from it earlier, for Hermione never lost her temper so violently, but having accepted the fact that Hermione had gone mad, he now felt free to focus on what it was, exactly, that she was saying about him.

"Relax, Ron. Getting angry at her will not help this situation any."

"Thou art not so big as a round little worm!"(S) Crash!

"Do you hear what she's saying?"

"I hear her, Ron. I'm telling you; relax."

"Dearest Ron, I feel so miserable without you, it's almost like having you here."(SS) Crash! Crash!

"What!" Ron hissed, shocked.

"Thou art like the toad, ugly and venomous!"* Crash! "Drop into the rotten mouth of _death_!"(S)

Insulting him was one thing, wishing him dead quite another. "All right. That's enough!" Ron roared, leaping from his place behind the couch, then deftly caught the jar hurling straight for his head. Like his captain before him, he gave silent thanks for Keeper reflexes and glared hotly at Hermione. She stood in furious surprise exactly five yards away. "Enough," he said more quietly.

Hermione sniffed and returned the glare. "Hello, Ronald." She smiled sweetly. "Converse with any plankton lately?"

Ron's face darkened and he took a step toward her, opening his mouth to reply, but Harry jumped up and restrained him.

"Stop it, Ron." Harry looked to Hermione, eyes narrowed. "What is going on in here?"

"I was angry, so I'm venting my anger on inanimate objects." He just looked at her, and she glared. "It's your fault you know."

"My fault!" Harry sputtered. "How is this my fault?" His waving hand indicated the empty paintings, torn upholstery and piles of glass and porcelain shards scattered about the room.

Hermione frowned. "Well, I just thought you'd prefer this to my taking my aggression out on Ron's face."

"What! I'd like to see you-" Harry clamped a hand over Ron's mouth.

"Shut up, Ron," he told him fiercely. "I don't need you making things worse right now." He continued in a louder voice. "This has gone quite far enough." Gingerly, Harry made his way through the rubble to his female friend. When he reached her side, he regarded her with solemn eyes for several seconds, then sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "Okay. What…" he stopped, at a loss. "What is it you need, Hermione?"

"What?"

"Well, what were you supposed to get out of all this?" his voice was irritated as he glared at her and again indicated the mess in the room with his hand. "What was it supposed to do for you?"

She shook her head. "I don't…"

"Hermione, you had to have wanted something! What were you going to do when you ran out of breakable things? Smile at the rest of Gryffindor and skip off to the library to do your homework? What was the point?"

"I don't know, okay!" Tears pricked her eyes. "I was just so angry!" She hung her head, sniffling, and Harry sighed.

"Hermione." He gathered her in his arms and sighed again. "I think the best way to solve your problem is for you and Ron to knock it off." He paused, waiting for some sign she agreed. He got nothing. "Hermione?"

She made a non-committal noise and he growled in disgust. "Hermione, stop it." He took her by the shoulders and held her at arms' length. "I'm not kidding."

Hermione would have protested more, but Harry had used the Voice and done that scary stern thing with his eyes, so she sighed instead and looked at the floor. "Okay."

"Good, now apologize to Ron."

"What? But he started it!"

"I did not!"

"Did too!"

"Stop it, both of you!" He glared back and forth between them. "Hermione, I know that Ron made the first comment, which caused you to react in anger-"

"What? Harry, you git, don't lay the blame on me, she's the one-"

"Shut up, Ron. If you'd kept your mouth shut abut Krum none of this would have happened. However," he added, ignoring Ron's mutinous look and glaring down at Hermione, who was starting to look smug, "Hermione reacted terribly and shares the blame."

"But if he's the one who started it, why do I-"

"Because _you_ are the one who's spent the evening saying some rather nasty things about Ron while smashing fragile objects you don't even own against the wall, that's why. Now apologize."

"But I don't-"

"Hermione, apologize to Ron, now!"

She glared up at him. "I will not!"

There was silence in the room.

Harry looked at his other equally stubborn friend with dying hope. "Ron?"

Without looking at him, Ron shook his head. "No Harry."

Harry released his breath in an unhappy hiss. "Okay then. Just remember this was your choice." His voice was full of disgust. "The two of you can spend the afternoon arguing, or ignoring each other, or whatever else you want to do. I am going to go find my girlfriend and pretend none of this ever happened. Don't either of you come talk to me until you've grown up." With that, the raven-haired boy left through the portrait hole, and Hermione and Ron were left looking after him.

"This is not good," Ron muttered.

"Really?" Hermione asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Ron glared at her. "Don't get all self-righteous on me, Hermione. This is as much your fault as mine," he snarled.

Subconsciously, she knew he was right, but she was far beyond rational behavior at this point. "Hardly."

Ron addressed the empty room. "Hermione Granger, ladies and gentlemen, Miss Perfect."

"You're no picnic yourself, Ronald," she snapped.

"You know, I'm amazed you've stuck around so long since you seem to despise me so much."

"I never said I despised you, Ron."

"No, but that's the problem, isn't it? Why _didn't_ you say it when you so obviously _felt_ it? Why did you bother pretending to be my friend all this time?"

Her jaw dropped, and she shook her head. "I _was_ your friend!"

"Then what's changed?" he cried. "One minute we're the best of friends, and the next you don't hardly talk to me anymore. You've been distant for going on a month now!"

"_I've_ been distant!" she exclaimed disbelievingly. Hadn't _he_ been ignoring _her_? He went on as if she hadn't spoken.

"Every time I try to talk to you it's 'I'm reading right now, Ron,' or 'Don't you have homework to do?' and there's always 'Ron, honestly, can't you see I'm studying for my NEWTS?' As if I don't know NEWTS are more than a year away. Even _you_ don't start studying _that_ early."

"I _was_ studying for my NEWTS!" Is that really how it had been? Had _she_ been the distant one? But Ron wasn't finished yet.

"And then, after being ignored all that time, I have to sit there and watch you get all excited over a letter from Krum. He's _hundreds_ of miles away! I was sitting right there, you could always have talked to me, but no, you were too busy. Yet you apparently managed to make _plenty_ of time for _Krum_." He sneered the name.

"Oh, Krum again." She rolled her eyes and turned away.

"_You_ seem to think well enough of him."

She whirled around again, hands on her hips. "And why not? He's perfectly nice." She glared at him across the couch she'd put between them.

"He can't even say your name properly, Hermione!"

"Half the time neither do you! What has _that_ got to do with anything?"

"I do it on purpose. Vicky's just too _stupid_ to learn how."

Hermione clenched her fists in frustration. "Look, Ron, no one's saying you have to like Viktor, but don't insult him when he's not even here to defend himself! And stop calling him Vicky!"

"Why? Isn't that what _you_ call him?" Ron sneered.

"No!"

"Haven't gotten to the nickname stage of your relationship then, have you?" He cast her a superior look.

"Ronald, I am not dating Viktor Krum!" she yelled.

"Well, he certainly means a lot to you! If you're not dating him, it must be because he's too _cowardly_ to ask you!" he yelled back.

"Viktor is just my friend, Ronald! He means nothing more to me than that. For goodness' sake, what will it take to get that through to you?" Her voice cracked with the strain of maintaining volume.

"Well he obviously means more to you than _me_, and I thought _we _were best friends! What am I _supposed_ to think?" His face was red with the strain of shouting too, and the muscles of his neck corded with the effort.

Hermione threw her hands in the air, fully exasperated, and screamed, "No one means more to me than you, you idiot; I love you!"

The room suddenly went still, as if it were holding its breath. Ron stood staring at her, mouth working, trying and failing to speak. Hermione, for her part, was equally shocked. She stared back at the boy with wide eyes and frantically tried to think what had possessed her. And how she could fix it.

Before she could come up with anything, Ron finally remembered how to talk. "You-you _what?_" he squeaked.

Hermione sighed. "Never mind," she whispered, and made as if to leave.

Hermione hadn't known Ron could move that fast; she'd barely taken three steps when he grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. _Jumped the couch_, noted some distant, disconnected part of her mind.

Ron's hands moved to her shoulders and held her firmly at arms' length. "You what?" he repeated, his voice low and intense. Startled she looked up and met his eyes. They were dark with that _something else_ she had only caught glimpses of before and that had always sent a shiver down her spine. She shivered now. "Say it again," he commanded urgently. "_You what_?"

"I love you, Ron," she told him quietly.

"That's what I thought you said," he breathed, his arms dropping to his sides. "I thought…but I was sure I was mistaken." He put a hand to his forehead, paced away three steps, came back. "You love me," he reiterated, incredulous.

Hermione felt tears prick her eyes. "Look, Ron, just-just forget I ever said it, okay?"

Ron, still pacing, whirled suddenly to face her. "I will _not_! Don't you dare ask me to forget it, Hermione. Don't you dare!" He stalked towards her, seeming twice his normal size; Hermione couldn't help herself, she shrank away. "I have waited more than two _years_ to hear you say those words, don't you _dare _pretend you didn't say them." He towered over her, his eyes flashing fiercely. "And don't ask me to either."

"Okay," she acquiesced, shocked by his outburst and blinking back tears. Why would Ron wait two years for her to tell him something like that? She didn't understand. In a whisper, she requested clarity. "Two years?"

"Oh Hermione." His voice dropped an octave and his whole body went still as he looked at her. He reached out to touch her hair, brushed it back out of her face, his expression intensely earnest. "I've loved you so long," he whispered. Almost desperately, he reached out and crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair. "I've loved you so long!"

He was hugging her. He was more than hugging her, he loved her. He loved her! She clung to him then with equal ferocity, sobbing quietly into his shoulder as his words sank in. Ron let her cry, his voice murmuring constantly in her ear as his grip tightened and his own tears wet the top of her head. After several minutes had passed, Ron's grip on her eased and he gently pulled away, though he didn't release her completely. Tenderly, he gazed down at her and cupped her face in his hands. "We have been stupid, haven't we?" he stated softly, wiping her tears away with his thumbs and ignoring the fact that his own face was wet.

Hermione smiled shakily. "Are you suggesting that I'm stupid, Ronald?" She arched an eyebrow, reaching for levity to break the seriousness of the last few minutes; reaching for the normalcy of mock argument.

Ron smiled briefly, only nibbling at the bait, "Only if the word "we" includes you."

Hermione gave up. "We have lots of time to make up for it."

"Do we?" he was teasing now, but there was a seriousness behind his question. He _wanted_ this to be serious, and he wanted it to be long term. He also wanted assurance that she wanted the same.

And she was smirking. "You know we do." The look she gave him said he was stupid if he expected to get away with anything less.

Satisfied, Ron tugged her close again. "When should we start, then?" He canted an eyebrow in subtle suggestion, settling her comfortably against him.

She slid her arms around his neck in response and succumbed to the temptation to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Cocking her head up at him, she gave him a pointed look. "_Now_ is good," she murmured, leaning forward.

Ron grinned. "Yes Ma'am," he teased, just before his lips met hers.

The kiss wasn't long, Hermione thought later, but it was very sweet. Warmth flooded through her almost instantly, leaving her tingling from head to toe, and her heart beat double time in her chest, but these were clinical observations made by the studious part of Hermione's brain just before she couldn't think anymore. Mostly there was an ecstatic joy. It pounded through her veins, exploded like fireworks in her mind, meshed with the beautiful sensations of Ron so close to her; the feel of his arms, the touch of his hands, the scent on his skin, the memory of the look in too blue eyes inches from hers; and it stole her breath away. She felt herself go weak in the knees, felt the strength of Ron's arms as he shifted to support her weight, felt herself melt against him. She could _feel_ him through his kiss, that was the most amazing thing, not just his mouth and his arms and his hair between her fingers, but his courage and his strength, his humor and especially his love. It was all that was him and all that was her, coming together in a mutual understanding, and it was wonderful.

When it was over, it took her several seconds to recover enough to open her eyes, and even that was done slowly. Ron was watching her carefully for her reaction, his expression one of satisfaction and apprehension both. She smiled brilliantly up at him, realizing resignedly that she was going to be smiling that goofy smile for hours, and wonderingly covered her still-tingling lips with her hand. Then she thought of something, and her gaze sharpened.

"Just one thing, Ron," she told him sternly, fighting hard against the urge to grin.

He looked at her curiously. "What's that?"

"No more pretty Ravenclaw partners."

Ron just laughed and kissed her again. When he let her go, Hermione reluctantly turned her attention to the room around them.

"Just look at this mess," she said, her tone a mix of amazement and disgust. "How did I manage this much damage in such a short time?"

"You're talented, I suppose," Ron told her wryly, gazing at the debris piled…everywhere.

Hermione half-heartedly shot him a nasty look, the happiness she felt preventing any real malice, and decided the room could wait. Closing her eyes, she relaxed bonelessly against Ron's shoulder, absently noting that she was smiling again.

"We really should get started," Ron said after a minute or two of just standing together.

"We?" She turned surprised eyes on the boy standing next to her.

"Well you didn't think after all this I'd leave you to do it by yourself?" he glanced down at her, amused. "After all," he added, touching her cheek briefly with his fingertips, "I'm the one who caused you to do it in the first place. If I hadn't been such a git, you never would have gone insane." He grinned.

"Ron!" She blushed furiously, but he just laughed, taking her hand and gently squeezing it.

"Insane, honestly," she shook her head then looked around at the mess she'd made. "All-right then," she said and resolutely waved her wand. "_Reparo_!"

This was going to take awhile.

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Harry and Ginny, walking hand in hand back to Gryffindor tower later that evening, slowed abruptly when they rounded the last corner and took in the sight of the rather large crowd still gathered about the now open portrait hole, staring in. Exchanging confused glances, the two teenagers looked askance at their housemates and received only a confusing assortment of grins, knowing smiles, and shocked glances as they made their way to the front of the group. Getting the attention of a couple of fifth years nearest the entrance, Ginny motioned for them to move back and they did, just enough to allow she and Harry to see in. There, piled around the walls and on the furniture, were all the things Hermione had broken in her fit of anger, newly repaired and ready to be taken back to their proper places. All the furniture upholstery looked clean and good as new, and several of the paintings had regained their usual occupants. But none of this was what had drawn the crowd.

It wasn't even the people _in_ the common room that had drawn attention. Ron and Hermione were common enough occupants, what with all the studying and chess playing done between the two of them. No it was what the two were doing that had captured the attention of every Gryffindor who'd thought to enter the common room in the last fifteen minutes.

Harry, relieved to have his best friends back (and in better condition than he'd left them), grinned down at Ginny, and she leapt through the opening with a happy squeal.

"I knew it!" she cried, pointing a finger at the happy couple. "I knew you fancied him!"

Hermione lifted her head from its place on Ron's shoulder and looked up at her friend rather smugly.

"Really?" she asked, pushing a strand of hair behind one ear before dropping her arm back around Ron's waist. "Me too." Ron, for his part, continued to hold her as if his sister hadn't said a word, his hand still lazily stoking her hair. Hermione pretended not to notice the disbelieving look Ginny was now giving the perpetually amused Harry Potter, instead focusing on the book in her lap and trying to keep a smile off her face. She had never been one for fairy-tale romances, and she certainly had never experienced one (no one could call her relationship with Ron a fairy-tale, not with a straight face anyway), but she could see now why Ginny kept insisting this sort of book was not completely useless. Read under the right conditions, it could be almost heart warming.

"But Harry, look at her! All smug as could be, as if I hadn't been telling her she fancied him for ages! And him too!"

"I know Ginny, but they already knew they fancied each other. They just didn't know they fancied each other. So your telling them they fancied each other was pointless, you see."

Ginny blinked. "Love, you're not making any sense."

Harry threw his hands into the air and retreated to another corner of the common room, where he began gathering repaired breakables for their return trip home. "Let it go, Gin. They're together now, and they're happy; that's all that matters."

"No! It's not! I mean, don't think I'm not glad that they're happy, I'm glad that they're happy, see? Glad." She smiled weirdly at him, as proof, then went on. "But I'm supposed to get some credit here. I mean, I worked so hard to get them together; they're not supposed to go do it all on their own! I never thought of making them fight! Why didn't I think of making them fight?" She seemed to be seriously considering the matter.

"Gin?" Harry lifted her chin with his free hand, so she'd look at him. "Just let it go."

"But who gets together by having a big fight?"

Harry shrugged. "It's Ron and Hermione," he stated simply, going back to collecting breakable objects from the piles on the floor. "Their way would have to be special."

"But I don't get any credit! How can I charge an exorbitant rate for my matchmaking skills in the future if I don't get credit to prove I have past experience?" Her wail caused her boyfriend to look up at her.

"Matchmaking skills in the future?"

"I want to be a matchmaker! I did well with us!" She cried at Harry's skeptical look.

"As I recall," Harry answered, motioning her to come pick up a vase he couldn't quite manage to reach with his load, "you had help with us. Hermione shoved you into it."

"_I_ chose you!"

"_Hermione_ chose Ron. Matchmakers are supposed to _find_ matches, not put together existing ones."

"Harry, you are not being helpful here."

"Can you get that jar there too? Thank you."

Ginny sighed. "You're not even the least repentant."

Harry grinned and kissed her cheek. "Not a bit."

"Oh well. Can you pile breakable things in my arms too? If I try it myself, they'll just break." She frowned. "Again."

Hermione chuckled at the silliness of her friends, whom she loved dearly, then looked down at her book.

"And they lived happily ever after," Ron read over her shoulder. Hermione smiled contentedly and closed the book.

"Here's hoping." She paused to watch Harry and Ginny struggle to balance their burden of fragility and felt a spark of guilt. "We really should help them, you know."

"Hm. Maybe later."

Softly, Hermione laughed, and felt her smile widen when Ron returned it with a grin and then a kiss. Maybe she'd been wrong about today, she thought happily.

Maybe today was the best of days after all.

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(S)Taken from (in the order spoken by Hermione): The Two Noble Kinsmen, Macbeth, All's Well That Ends Well, Romeo and Juliet, As You Like It, Richard III

(SS)Taken from Stephen Bishop

Okay, this **IS NOT**! the last chapter. There's only one chapter left, as there are loose ends still to tie up, but _this_ one is finished. Isn't that wonderful? I hope it explains why chapter nine was so necessary too; I mean really, Hermione would never have lost her temper like that if she hadn't had a _really_ bad day the day before! Anyway, I hope you liked it, and I'll get right to work on the next, and last, chapter. Now, go review!

ER, just real quick. I want to apologize for two things: 1) if you're reading this for the first time and are confused by the way the chapters skip from one place/subject/time etc with no warning, so was I. When changed it's format, it got rid of all my dividers. Eventually I'll go back and edit and repost them, but not until the whole thing is done, so it'll be a bit. 2) if you started reading this earlier, and then didn't get a chance to finish, I'm sorry. I had to remove the chapter so that this one at least had some kind of divider (hence the S's everywhere). Sorry if there was any confusion.


	11. Epilogue

Seasonal Suffering

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of his friends, nor his enemies, nor his relatives, nor his teachers, nor any other part belonging to his world. That all belongs to J.K Rowling and Co. I'm merely borrowing them.

Notes: Wow! Can I just take a moment to tell you how truly awesome you all are? I went to check my e-mail the day after I posted chapter ten, and there were twelve, TWELVE!, reviews. It hadn't even been 24 hours since I'd posted it! I've never had such an immediate response to a posting before. I felt so loved!

That being said, I feel the need to extend my appreciation to certain individuals who played key roles in the completion of this fic. To these all credit and honor is due:

**Yami Boy**: My most faithful reviewer, I love you! You've been with me since the very beginning; of all those who have reviewed my story, you're the only one whose stuck with it the entire time! That kind of devotion is rare, and I always looked forward to seeing your reviews. Thank you!

**pudadingding**: Haha! I finally wrote a chapter you didn't need to correct! Triumph is mine! But seriously, thank you so much for the constructive criticism. You're the only one who bothered, and you have no idea how much I appreciate it. There were a couple of chapters that I considered posting as soon as I finished them (and similarly, several paragraphs that were just terrible in their original form) that I went back and edited instead because I knew you'd be reading them. You made me work harder to write better, and I owe to you the quality of my later chapters.

**Underappreciated**: Ah, my conscience. Without you, there's no telling _when_ this thing would have been finished. Every time I took too long to update (i.e. got too caught up in my school work/ re-modeling and forgot to write), you were right there, reminding me to get off my tail because there were people waiting. I can recall at least two times when I posted much sooner than I would have otherwise because of your e-mails and reviews. I'm a very busy and easily-distracted person, I _need_ people who are willing to nag me. Seriously, thanks for "camping out" on my front lawn. ^_^ Feel free to continue doing so.

**Elvish Fairy**: Whose steady and glowing reviews in the early chapters built my confidence. Thank you for the unconditional love of my imagination's creation.

**Einstein09**, **Legofiance**, **bethzc**, **samurai-lapin**, and **Nessie8**: Oh what to say? To the five of you I owe much thanks. You were my most devoted reviewers, for varied reasons. Samurai-lapin has been with me almost as long as Yami Boy. The rest of you have reviewed steadily almost every chapter since your first review, and I am grateful for your willingness to do so again and again; to spend your time telling me what you thought, even if it was only a "good job, update soon." I appreciate you more than you know.

**And to all the others who read and reviewed**: Thank you so much! When all are accounted for, there were more than eighty of you. That's incredible! I wish I had time to thank each and every one of you individually. Unfortunately, it would take too long and I need to get this chapter posted. But I wanted to make sure you all know how grateful I am for your comments and encouragement. You're wonderful!

Okay, enough rambling; we all know you guys are awesome, so…without further ado, I now present to you:

**Chapter the Last: Epilogue**

Hermione awoke Saturday morning to find a beautiful sunny day waiting outside. A day she planned to enjoy to the fullest, and for once, that meant _not _studying. She stretched and opened the window, admiring the sun on the new plant-life just beginning to flourish on the grounds below.

"Brrr! Hermione close that!" Lavender reached past her to pull the window shut in a bit of a slam, and gave her a suspicious look. "I thought you were supposed to be all happy and in love now. Why are you trying to commit suicide?"

Hermione barely heard the jab, distracted as she was by the indirect mention of Ron. Unwittingly, the prefect allowed a silly grin to spread across her face.

"Oh, you've gone and done it now, Lavender. You went and said the 'L' word. Now she'll be completely hopeless until she gets to see him. I've told you time and time again, don't mention the 'L' word or the 'R' word until we're ready to leave the room. Otherwise she just stands there grinning like a fool, just like that." Parvati poked gently at Hermione's face. The other girl made a disgruntled sound and slapped her hand away, but she never lost the grin. Parvati shook her head. "Hopeless."

"Oh, yeah? Well what about you and Jack, huh?" Hermione shot back, grinning triumphantly at the other girl. Lavender arched an eyebrow at the brewing storm, but wisely kept quiet.

Parvati pulled her hair back into a ponytail and said, "What about us?"

"You're the same way, you know. It's like the two of you are glued at the hip, and whenever you're together, you can't seem to take your eyes off each other. It's sickening." Hermione made a face.

"We're not _that_ bad," Parvati said, rolling her eyes.

Lavender made the mistake of snorting in disbelief. Parvati did not hesitate to turn on her.

"And what about you, huh?" she poked Lavender in the side and the ticklish girl couldn't help but laugh. "You're always going on about how wonderful your boyfriend is, never giving us a moment's peace; it's always Seamus this and Seamus that. It's impossible to hold a normal conversation with you."

"Hey!" Lavender protested, slapping Parvati's hand away.

"Says the girl who can't look away from her boyfriend long enough to _talk_ to anyone else, much less hold a '_normal_' conversation," Hermione replied in Lavender's defense, arching a challenging brow at their roommate. "Of course, that's assuming she were capable of 'normal' conversation to begin with…which she isn't," she added thoughtfully, speaking more to herself than anyone else.

"Oh yeah?" Parvati asked her, walking back towards Hermione's bed and picking up a pillow. "We'll just see about that," and she hurled the feathered sleeping-comfort-turned-projectile at her unsuspecting friend. Unfortunately, it hit the wall three feet to the left of her intended target.

"This is why _Jack_ plays Quidditch, and you only _watch_ him," Lavender observed. Parvati scowled and threw the next pillow at her.

_Parvati really does have poor aim_, Hermione thought examining her shirt for any tell-tale feathers where the pillow meant for Lavender had accidentally hit her. Calmly, she reached down and lifted the "weapon," holding one end firmly with both hands and grinning wickedly. "Parvati, you are about to discover why Ron and Harry never challenge me to a pillow fight. May you learn a valuable lesson from the experience." Without another word, she swung away.

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The three occupants of the sixth year girls' dormitory came down to the common room looking rather disheveled. Ginny, waiting with Harry and Ron for Hermione to come down for breakfast, looked up at their entrance and gave her friend a sly grin.

"Had a bit of a row this morning?" she asked, taking note of the feathers caught in her hair and clothing.

Hermione cheeks turned a faint pink color and she pulled a couple of feathers from her jumper. "Yeah. One of the pillows exploded."

"That was Hermione's fault," said Lavender quickly, then smiled at Seamus as he came up behind her.

"Mine?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Well, not the pillow exploding," Lavender amended. "That was actually my fault. Or Parvati's for provoking me." She frowned trying to remember, ignoring Parvati's protests, then looked back at Hermione. "But the fight was your fault."

"_Hermione?_" Seamus looked incredulous. He wasn't the only one. Gryffindor was slowly becoming accustomed to this bright, laughing girl who caused all sorts of trouble, got away with blaming it all on Ginny, and still managed to get top grades. Apparently she'd been hiding inside the old Hermione the entire time. But there were still those who had difficulty believing when they hadn't seen it.

"You've been getting into an awful lot of fights lately, Hermione," Ginny commented. "I think maybe you need anger management classes."

Hermione grinned and tossed a couch pillow at her cheeky friend. "I'm not the one with the Weasley temper, Gin."

Ron started to ask what she meant by that but was interrupted by Lavender. "It doesn't matter much, apparently. She starts fights just fine without it," the girl pointed out.

"Oh, I do not."

"You do! This one was all your fault."

"It was not! Parvati was the one poking fun at me." Hermione glared half-heartedly at the other girl.

"If you hadn't been staring off into space, none of this would have happened."

"I wasn't aware staring off into space was a crime."

Parvati grinned. "It wasn't the staring off into space. It was the goofy smile." At that all _three_ roommates smiled, Hermione's the same goofy grin as before, and her roommates' _because_ of the goofy grin. Lavender's smile swiftly turned evil, and she regarded Hermione with a wicked glint in her eye.

"Parvati was right about you, you know," she told the prefect mischievously. Hermione's eyes refocused on her roommate in response.

"And _I_ was right to say that _she_ is the same way." Hermione pointed out. She scowled at Lavender. "As I recall, I started off _defending_ you. Blaming everything on me is poor thanks, Lavender Brown."

"You were quick enough to turn on _me_ when the pillows started flying!"

"You hit me first!"

"Only because Parvati hit me while _trying_ to hit you!"

"She does have terrible aim," Hermione reflected.

"It's true," Lavender agreed.

"Hey, I'm standing right here!" Parvati exclaimed, waving her hand between her two roommates. Hermione and Lavender ignored her.

"You're right Hermione." Lavender finally conceded.

"Right? What is she right about?" Parvati wondered.

The two girls looked at her pointedly. "It was your fault," they said simultaneously.

"Hey!"

"And don't ever let her play Quidditch, Jack," Hermione added, addressing the tall boy standing at Parvati's shoulder.

"What?"

"No really," Lavender added.

"Stop ganging up on me! None of this was my fault!"

Jack looked at her speculatively. "I find that hard to believe."

"My own boyfriend!" Parvati moaned.

"Next time don't start a fight!" Hermione told her, grinning again.

"I didn't start it!"

"Before you start a fight over who started the fight, maybe you could tell us what were you fighting _about_?" Ginny asked, looking pointedly at each of the girls. All three blushed furiously and mumbled a dismissive answer. Lavender and Parvati even made a hasty retreat. Hermione, however, was stuck with the inquisitor.

"Traitors!" she called after her roommates.

"Hey, they're your friends!" Parvati replied, grinned, and climbed through the portrait hole. It closed with a definitive thump behind her.

"Well?" Ginny persisted.

"Why are you asking me that, when you know I'm not going to tell you?"

"Because I have a feeling I already know, and I want to see if I'm right." Ginny's smile was wickedly smug.

Hermione glared at her balefully. "Ginevra Weasley, you are a terrible person." With that she stalked toward the portrait hole.

"Where are you going?" Ron called after her.

"I'm hungry, Ronald."

"Don't I even get a hello?"

Hermione stopped what would have been the start of some serious retribution for her roommates for deserting her and turned instead to look at her boyfriend.

_My boyfriend_. The goofy grin was back.

"Oh brother," muttered Ginny. "Come on Harry. I love breakfast, it's my favorite meal. I want to eat some before I lose my appetite." Despite her words, Ginny was fighting smile.

"Yeah," agreed Harry. "We'll meet you downstairs, mate," he told Ron, then took Ginny's hand and led her from the room.

Once out in the corridor, Ginny and Harry paused long enough to grin at one another.

"About time," Ginny told him, for what must have been the hundredth time in the last two days.

And for the hundredth time, Harry replied, as he always did, with a heartfelt echo, "About time."

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It was ten minutes into breakfast before Ron and Hermione took their seats across from Harry and Ginny. Hermione noted Harry's smug little smirk, considered ignoring it, then flatly told him he couldn't give her that look anymore.

Harry's smirk only broadened.

Mentally resigning herself to get used to it, Hermione settled into breakfast with a vengeance. No one was particularly surprised, as she'd missed dinner the night before in order to catch up on all the sleep she'd missed that last week. Ginny had been somewhat surprised she'd been willing to sacrifice an evening with Ron, close as the two had been lately, but Hermione had been looking pretty tired, so it was probably better that she'd slept. And she was looking much healthier this morning. If nothing else, Ginny thought wryly, her appetite seems to be back.

Hermione had just finished her third piece of toast when the mail flight arrived through a window at ceiling height with all the usual hooting and near silent fluttering of wings. A feather landed on her head and she was in the midst of making a disparaging remark about the nature and origins of feathers while Ron laughed and removed the offending plumage when she came to the realization that there was an owl sitting on the table in front of her. Harry's owl, to be exact. And she was carrying a package.

"Hello, Hedwig. Is that for me?" The owl, who had taken to carrying Hermione's mail as well as the Weasleys' whenever Harry hadn't any, hooted softly and lifted her leg to indicate the package should be untied. Hermione obliged her, then offered Hedwig the crust from her bread which the bird accepted graciously before nipping affectionately at her fingers and turning to greet her master. Hermione then felt free to examine her package.

Hope and excitement rising in her chest, the brunette prefect lifted the box and turned it over, staring at the handwriting scrawled across the front. It was from her parents, she noted, which meant…

"Yes!" she cried exuberantly, jumping from her seat with her fist in the air. "I'll see you in a little bit," she told Ron, hurriedly kissing him and waving goodbye over her shoulder without even glancing at the others.

The three remaining companions stared after her for some seconds, until Harry's disgusted snort brought attention to him instead. "Some best friend," he said with a sneer, then turned to Ron and gave him a searching look. "I think she loves you more than me," he told him in mock disapproval.

Ron met his gaze squarely, and frowned. "She better," he told him, and Harry laughed.

Hermione, meanwhile, was making her way to the Gryffindor common room with surprising speed. The entire way all she could think about was ripping off the paper and getting started on the project inside. She had waited so long for this to get here. She didn't know why her parents hadn't sent it sooner, if she'd known it would take them so long to pick up her new toy and send it to her, she would have had the company send it to her directly. But it was here now, she thought to herself, climbing through the portrait hole and making a beeline for the empty couch before the fire. The four Gryffindors who had occupied the room up to that point, took one look at their prefect, noted that glint in her eye that Gryffindors everywhere were beginning to realize meant trouble, and immediately left the room. Hermione remained oblivious to their exit, focusing on tearing off paper and twine as quickly as possible to get to the item inside. A short letter fell to the ground as Hermione peeled the paper away, and she paused long enough to retrieve it.

_Hermione,_ it said.

_Here's the kit you asked us to pick up for you. I'm sorry it took so long, dear, but Dad and I had a little problem with the car, and we had to wait for the mechanic to fix it. We would have told you, but we figured it would already have arrived at the store before you received our letter, so we waited. I don't know what you want this for, it seems a little odd if you want my opinion, but I hope you enjoy it just the same. Keep up with your studies, Hermione, and we love you!_

_Love,_

_Mum_

Hermione grinned, set the letter aside, and continued tearing at the paper until there was none left. Inside the plain brown wrapping, an excited Hermione found a medium sized blue box with silver foil lettering embossed across the top. "Magical musical accompaniment kit" the label read (make your own magical musical accompaniment magically!). Excitedly, Hermione pulled the top off and dug for the instructions, settling back for a quick read before she got to work.

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After Hermione's rushed disappearance, Harry, Ron and Ginny had finished their breakfast at a leisurely pace. As the day had been scheduled to be a fun day for the _four_ of them, Hermione's return was expected momentarily, and the boys determined that the best place to wait for her to come back was the place where she'd left them. That decision made, the three sat for some time at the Gryffindor table, sipping hot chocolate and laughing together as they had not been able to do in some time. What with everything that had been going on recently, there hadn't really been much time to relax and there wasn't one of them who didn't appreciate the chance, even if it did feel odd without Hermione there. At the end of the hour, however, when Hermione had still not returned (and Ron was beginning to look noticeably depressed), the three decided it was time to go find her. Being that she was a Gryffindor, the common room was naturally the first place they looked.

It was also where they found her.

The three had approached the fat lady's canvas without much thought, laughing and joking as they had all morning. But before Harry could give the password, Ginny, who had reached the portrait first, stopped and cocked her head to one side curiously. When the other two tried to ask her what was going on, she just made a hushing noise and waved them to silence.

"Don't you hear that?" she whispered.

Sure enough, a faint sound could be heard drifting through the portrait.

"Is that music?"

"Only one way to find out."

Ginny, curious as ever, gave the password and was surprised when the fat lady hesitated, gave them all wary looks, and said "all right. You'll only yell at me if I try to warn you, so have it your own way," then swung open, muttering about someone always making a racket. Instantly the music became much louder, and there was the definite addition of words, though they were indiscernible from this distance. Exchanging puzzled glances the three teenagers climbed through the hole and stood, surprised and amused, just inside the entryway.

On the table in front of the fire stood a small blue box embellished with gold enamel and it was from this box that the loud and admittedly catchy music originated. Beside it stood Hermione, fist clutched around her wand, singing at the top of her lungs.

"At curfew rounds she will appear

Intelligent and fair…"

"It has theme _music_ now?" Ginny groaned. "Hermione, what have I done to you?"

"Who's that cunning mind behind

That really bushy hair?" Hermione closed her eyes and began dancing to the beat, still singing into her wand/microphone.

"Everybody knows her name

She always does her work!" Her voice became just louder than a whisper, and her audience had trouble not laughing, "Yeah, here comes,

Hermione!" She was singing at full voice again.

"(She's a wicked prefect)

Hermione!

(Let's get serious)

Hermione! Yeah, Her-mi-one!"

As the song came to a close and the music went through its final notes, Ron, Harry and Ginny broke into raucous applause.

"Brilliant, Hermione, absolutely lovely!" Harry told her, still clapping, but no longer pretending not to laugh.

"You just _had_ to go and give it music!" Ginny exclaimed, walking over to her friend and picking up the lid to her musical accompaniment kit.

Ron was too busy laughing to say anything.

"Stop it you," Hermione told him, smacking his arm and blushing. Ron laughed harder but put his arm around her when she tried to hide her face in his chest.

"This is terribly familiar," he told her, choking back his laughter and lifting her hair away from one ear to look at it. "If I remember right, your ears were red then too."

She groaned, and put her hands up on either side of her face to hide them. "Ronald!"

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked innocently.

Cautiously, Hermione looked up at him. "You're such a prat, you know that?"

Ron grinned. "Yeah, but you love me anyway."

"Can't figure out why."

"Hermione, what is all this?" A grinning Harry was holding up the blue and gold contraption in one hand, and the box it had come in (confiscated from Ginny) in the other. He arched an eyebrow. "Musical accompaniment?"

"For my theme song," she told him, raising her chin in a defiantly dignified manner.

"Theme song? You have a theme song?"

"Yes, Harry, my theme song. What? Don't you have one?"

Chuckling slightly, Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione, I can't say that I do."

"Savior of the world and he doesn't even have a theme song," Hermione told Ron, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"Hey! I never said I was the savior of the world! Why do people keep saying that?"

"No modesty here, Harry. Just because you don't say you are something, doesn't mean it isn't true all the same."

"But you can't just go around _saying_ things like that. People will start saying I'm arrogant again."

"She's right though, Harry," Ginny told him. "You are what you are."

"But savior of the world?"

"Well. You're _my_ hero."

"Oh, spare me." Ron pretended to gag.

"Shut up, Ron." Harry told him, intent on kissing Ginny. She didn't seem to mind.

Hermione grinned and looked up at the boy in her arms. "Stop it, Ron. You pushed for this, remember?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't joking at Christmas when I said I didn't want to see them kissing. It's gross seeing my best friend and my sister like that. Elch!" Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron ignored the motion and turned his attention to the music box Harry had set down in favor of kissing his sister. "So what's this then?" He released Hermione long enough to retrieve the box, and held it up to her eye level.

"This is what I've been waiting for all this time."

"Funny it doesn't look like a letter. Krum didn't even sign it? Not much of a love note if you ask me, Hermione." He shot her a mocking glance.

"Ronald!"

Ron just laughed and examined the music box. "All of that for this little box, huh?"

"It's not my fault you thought I was waiting for something else, Ron."

Ron grinned. "I can't help it. I'm a jealous person by nature." He pulled her tight against him. "Mine! All mine!" he growled into her hair.

"Down Ronald!" she exclaimed, giggling. He loosened his hold and grinned down at her. She just rolled her eyes and took her music box back from him, fiddling with it slightly.

"What is it this thing does, exactly?" Ron asked when he decided her attention had wandered away from him a little too much.

"It plays music," her tone suggested he should know this already.

"The music for you theme song." He confirmed, his voice matter of fact, and he arched an eyebrow.

"Yes." She said it as a statement, but her voice wavered in embarrassment.

Ron grinned teasingly, and took the box back. "And you had a theme song _before _you got the box?"

"Um…Yes?"

Ron laughed. She was definitely embarrassed, and he decided it was cute. "You're ridiculous," he told her.

Hermione blushed fiercely. But then he dropped the music box on the couch and leaned close.

"You're also beautiful." He kissed her forehead. "And very sweet." He kissed her nose "And I love you. Have I told you lately how much?"

Hermione grinned then. "This morning Ron. Right before breakfast, remember?"

"Ah yes. And breakfast was right before I came into the common room and found my girlfriend dancing around the room and singing her very own theme song into her wand." He tugged gently on a curl and grinned as she blushed all over again. She let her gaze fall, too embarrassed to watch him laugh at her, but he cupped her chin in one hand and tilted her face up. "You're ridiculous," he told her softly, and then he leaned in and kissed her for it. Hermione sighed blissfully. Life was good. Harry was happy with Ginny, Hermione's theme song was complete, and Ron loved her, even if he did think she was ridiculous.

_If he keeps kissing me like this_, she decided, _then maybe "ridiculous" isn't such a bad thing to be. _ She smiled as he kissed her again, remembering a time she had thought this would never happen, and realizing how lucky she was that it had.

_He loves me,_ she thought in wonder. _And it isn't even a holiday... _

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The End!

It feels so weird to say that. And it makes me sad, too. This story is my baby, and now it's all grown up! *sniff* Okay, but seriously. This is the end of the end. That's all that was written. It's done. I realize, as far as this chapter alone is concerned, that it doesn't do much for the story where plot is concerned. But I felt, after I had finished chapter nine, that I had left a bit of a string hanging with the whole waiting for the package thing, and I really wanted to do something with the theme song anyway because everyone seemed to enjoy it so much. So I came up with this comic little epilogue, which I hope you all enjoyed. Unfortunately this means the story really is finished, but never fear! I have prepared something with which you may ease your sorrow. The first chapter to the Seasonal Suffering prequel! Yay! It'll be up by the end of next week (I have a trip this weekend, so I haven't quite enough time to write it now, or it would be up by Monday). So. Review, and then (next Friday) go read it.


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